


Return to Sender

by background_antagonist



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Original Character(s), Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/background_antagonist/pseuds/background_antagonist
Summary: Courier Six rose from the grave without a lick of memory of the life she'd lived before Benny tried to blow her brains out into the Mojave Wasteland. Where she came from, her family and friends, hell, even her name were lost in a muzzle flash. She's alone in the world, attempting to piece her life back together, unaware of the brother who's on the hunt for her. Together, they'll wreak havoc across the Mojave, change the fate of the Wasteland, and have some fun along the way. The game will never be the same, but you know what they say -- it was rigged from the start.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. The End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm not really sure where the idea for this fic came from, but here we are! One day I just sat there and said, "What if Courier Six had family that was looking for them?" Boom, plot bunny! Courier Six is based on my own player character, and her brother, who will be introduced next chapter, is based on my brother's character. We're working together on this -- we make major decisions together, I put pen to paper, and run it by him for potential changes before posting -- so please give us any feedback you may have! Neither of us have any experience with traumatic head injuries except concussions, so please don't take this as a true-to-life account of amnesia.
> 
> As a warning, there will be profanity throughout this fic. If there are any other warnings, I'll be sure to put them at the top of each individual chapter.
> 
> Lastly, I do not own anything related to Fallout besides copies of the games. If I did, 76 never would've happened.
> 
> Now introducing Chapter One: The End of the World

_Truth is…the game was rigged from the start…_

The man in the checkered suit’s voice thudded in her head as the world swam back into focus. The bright light above her head nearly blinded her, and she squeezed her eyes shut and raised an arm over her head to cover her eyes. She quickly realized closing her eyes so tightly hurt just as badly, and she tried to relax. After a deep breath, she tried to open her eyes again, squinting against the migraine-inducing light on the ceiling. She tried to take stock of her surroundings, as well as her own body. She flexed her toes, then legs, then fingers and arms – everything seemed like it was still there.

She opened her eyes a bit wider, but snapped them shut yet again when the whirling ceiling fan brought on a wave of nausea. The third time appeared to be the charm as she tried again. The world blurred for a moment, but began to quickly clear. She looked to the right and was met with a wall, but turning to the left brought an older gentleman into focus.

“You’re awake. How about that,” the man sounded surprised and a bit pleased to see the young woman’s green eyes staring back into his own. She tried to sit up, but he reached out to her.

“Whoa, easy there, easy. You been out cold a couple of days now. Why don’t you relax a second? Get your bearings.” She tried to relax, taking several deep breaths, and slowly nodded. The pounding in her head had largely subsided, and she didn’t feel so much like a stranger in her own body.

“Let’s see what the damage is. How about your name? Can you tell me your name?” The man’s voice was low and soothing, but she suddenly felt off. Her name. What was her name? How does someone forget their own fuckin’ name?

“Uh…no…” she trailed off hoarsely. Her mouth and throat felt like she’d swallowed a desert, and the doctor was quick to hand her a bottle of purified water. She wanted to drink greedily, but something, some instinct told her to take small sips, or her stomach wouldn’t be thanking her.

“That’s okay, don’t worry. Amnesia is common in head injuries, and with one as bad as yours, I’m surprised you still know how to talk! Hell, I’m surprised you’re lying there breathing!” the apparent doctor said. Head injury? What head injury?

“I’m Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings,” the man finally introduced himself. Goodsprings…that was near the Long 15, right? Wait…what was a, “Long 15?”

“Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull out all the bits of lead,” the man, now known as Doc Mitchell, continued. “I take pride in my needlework, but you’d better tell me if I left anything out of place. So, how’d I do?” Doc Mitchell retrieved a small hand mirror and passed it to his patient, who took a moment, but eventually grabbed it to inspect her appearance.

Wait…bits of lead!?

_The game was rigged from the start…_ the disembodied voice echoed in her head once more, and she gasped. The crack of gunfire came to her next, followed shortly by the memory of a sharp pain and darkness.

She carefully inspected her head, and had to admit, the doctor’s needlework was spot-on. He couldn’t cover the small scar on the left side of her forehead, or the missing hair on the left side of her head where he’d clipped it before performing the surgery that saved her life, but that was of little importance in the long run. Hair grew back. Brains didn’t.

“Okay, no sense in keeping you in bed anymore. Let’s see if we can get you on your feet,” Doc Mitchell murmured as she handed the mirror back to him. His hands reached out to steady her as she sat up dizzily, the room shifting in and out of focus. Unsteadily, she got to her feet.

“Good. Why don’t you walk down to the end of the room? Over by that vigor tester machine there?” Doc Mitchell asked, and she thought the good doctor would have a better chance of surviving trying to patch up a wounded deathclaw than she did of surviving the walk across the room.

What the fuck was a deathclaw?

“Take it slow now. It ain’t a race,” the older man cajoled. She sighed, and shuffled over to the machine in the corner. Honestly, she was surprised she was able to move as well as she could. Maybe she hadn’t had _all_ of the important bits of her brain blown out.

“Looking good so far. Go ahead and give the vigor tester a try. We’ll learn right quick if you got back all your faculties,” the doctor said. She gave a small nod and placed her right hand on the nob. Concentrating, she ran through everything the Vit-O-Matic Vigor Tester threw at her. Doc Mitchell watched intently.

“Look at that,” he breathed in awe. “Maybe them bullets done your brain some good.”

She had to grin at that. Truthfully, she wasn’t in nearly as much pain as she thought she’d be. Sure, she was unsteady on her feet, and sure, she couldn’t remember her own damn name, but she wasn’t hurting too bad either, and that’s what counted at the moment. She looked at the vigor tester for herself. Charisma and Luck sat on the low side – she snorted at the Luck bit. She wasn’t sure if she was ridiculously unlucky for being shot in the head, or incredibly lucky for having survived. Her attention was drawn back to Doc Mitchell before she could contemplate that for much longer.

“Well, we know your vitals are good,” the doctor said as he walked into the next room. “But that doesn’t mean them bullets didn’t leave you nuttier than a Bighorner dropping. Whaddaya say you take a seat on my coach and we’ll go through a few questions. See if your dogs are still barking.”

She followed him into the living room and sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. From her views of the place, it was cozy and well-kept. He took a seat in front of her and relaxed.

“Alright. I’m gonna say a word, I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind,” He explained. She gave a small nod.

“Dog,” he began.

“Cat,” She replied.

“House.”

“Shelter.”

“Night.”

“Shroud.”

“Bandit.”

“Swiss cheese,” she responded with a smirk. He snorted a bit and continued.

“Light.”

“Beam.”

“Mother.”

“Caretaker.”

The doctor nodded at her responses. _If he’s not freaking out_ , she thought, _I’m probably still…mostly all there_.

“Okay. Now I’ve got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you’d say,” Doc Mitchell explained. She gave another short nod.

“I dunno if I’ll remember, but I’ll try,” she said with a small shrug. The doctor gave her an understanding and encouraging smile.

“It might jog your memory. Now. First one. Conflict just ain’t in my nature.”

She thought for a second, trying to rattle around in the scrambled mess of her brain for just a flash of memory. Her lips pursed as she came up empty-handed, but something just told her it wasn’t true.

“Disagree,” she responded slowly. Doc Mitchell gave her a nod.

“I ain’t given to relying on others for support,” came the next statement. Once again, she came up empty, but instinct pushed her to agree. She relied on someone – _who!?_ – but that was it.

“I’m always fixin’ to be the center of attention.”

“Hell no,” she blurted out before she even knew why. Doc Mitchell looked at her with some surprise, but just nodded and continued. She wasn’t sure why she knew that one, but apparently, she was someone who liked to stay inconspicuous.

“I’m slow to embrace new ideas.” She frowned and tried rooting around in her memory again. Sighing softly, she realized it was a lost cause and disagreed with the statement.

“I charge in to deal with my problems head-on.” Now that was a tricky one. Charge in to deal with her problems head-on?

_You’re hot-headed, girl. It’ll get you killed one of these days,_ a voice in her memory whispered. It was male, but didn’t match Mr. Checkered Suit. The voice was amused, bellied with a tinge of concern. Who was he?

“Strongly agree,” she replied after a beat.

“Alright kiddo, we’re almost done here,” Doc Mitchell gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m gonna show you some pictures. Tell me what you see.” He held up the first in a gloved hand. She studied the picture for a few moments, brows creased together.

“A broken chain,” she said. Doc Mitchell nodded and moved on, holding up the next one.

“A ship at sea,” a nod to that answer too. Doc Mitchell held up the last one.

“Honestly,” she said with a chuckle. “Honestly, that one looks like two bears high-fiving.”

Doc Mitchell gave her a smile and looked at it himself. He chuckled himself while she wiped tears of amusement from her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I can see that! You seem alright to me, kiddo. Haven’t lost your sense of humor, that’s for sure. Before I turn you loose, I need one more thing from you. Got a form for you to fill out so I can get a sense of your medical history,” Doc Mitchell made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle at the look on her face. “Just a formality! Ain’t like I expect to find you’ve got a family history of getting shot in the head.”

_Family_ , she thought as he handed her the form. _Do I have a family? Mom? Dad? Brothers, sisters? Is there anybody out there worried about me?_

Once she’d taken the time to fill out the form – _don’t take long when your brain’s a clean slate_ – Doc Mitchell stood and stretched. She followed suit.

“Alright, I guess that about does it. Come with me, I’ll see you out.”

She followed the doctor to the heavy wooden door just down the hall. She took a moment to look down for the first time and realized she was just wearing a tank-top and underwear. Surely the doctor who treated her wasn’t going to turn her loose on the world in her underthings…was he?

The doctor turned to an entryway table, where a few articles and a rucksack lay. He gathered everything in his arms and turned to face his soon-to-be-former patient.

“Here. These are yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in,” he explained. He sat the rucksack down at her feet, grimacing. Was it heavy? She kneeled and peeked through it.

A sniper rifle stuck out of one side, equipped with a long-range scope. Was she a soldier of some sort? That would explain the bullet to the brain, but not much else. An ornate 10mm pistol came next, and she felt warm when she grabbed the holster it was locked in. Good memories, maybe? Two combat knives and three grenades sat toward the bottom as well. Dear God, she was armed to the teeth! She wasn’t sure how anyone got the drop on her in the first place. Unfortunately, she had precious little ammo. Blood-splattered leather armor was the only other thing in that section.

Searching through the next pocket, she found…a Vault 13 canteen? Was she from a vault or something? She turned it over, hoping for a sparkle of memory, but found nothing. A pair of binoculars came next, but again, nothing. She pulled out three weapon repair kits, and felt that odd warmth again.

_Jesus Christ, you’re just fucking it up worse! Gimme!_ yet another male voice reverberated in her head. It was exasperated, but not angry. Who were these people!?

Next, she found a note. She quickly unfolded it, hoping for a clue about her identity. She found one, but not exactly what she was looking for.

_INSTRUCTIONS Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for deliver. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express agency in Primm._

Mojave Express…now why did that sound so familiar? She continued reading.

_MANIFEST This package contains: One (1) Oversized Poker Chip, comprised of Platinum_

She squeezed her eyes shut against the assault of suddenly remembering something. The man in the checkered suit pulled a platinum chip out of his breast pocket before pulling out a gun and leveling it at her.

_The game was rigged from the start…_

Her lips pursed. This didn’t bring her much closer to her identity, but it was something. She needed to get to Primm and see this Johnson Nash. Maybe he held the key to unlocking some of her memories. After that, this “Vegas Strip” sounded like a safe bet, but that was a ways off. Several stimpaks, a few bobby pins, and some bottlecaps lay in the same pocket as the note, but the pack was otherwise empty. She frowned. Even a name to call herself would’ve been nice.

“I hope you don’t mind…” Doc Mitchell started. “But I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me to find a next of kin, but it was just something about a platinum chip.” The doctor looked uncomfortable for a moment, but turned back to the table behind him and held up something made of blue cloth and a…handheld terminal?

“Well, if you’re heading back out there, you ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the War. We all got one. Ain’t much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you been through. I know what it’s like, having something taken from you,” he explained. Frowning, he also passed her the blue cloth.

“Put this on, too, so the locals don’t pick on you for lacking modesty. Was my wife’s. I think she was about your size, and she hardly wore it after we left the vault. Felt it was too brazen,” he explained. She looked at the Vault 21 suit she was now holding. The fabric was soft, but clearly reinforced.

“Thanks for patching me up, Doc,” she said sincerely, slipping into her new vault suit. Her leather armor came next, and had an odd feeling of home to it.

“Don’t mention it, it’s what I’m here for,” the doctor gave her a genuine smile. “You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you re-learn how to fend for yourself in the desert. She’ll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave.”

With this, he stepped closer, putting his hands are her shoulders. She tilted her head up to look him in the eyes.

“You ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I’ll fix you up,” he said seriously, but then began to chuckle. She cocked an eyebrow. He took his hands from her shoulders and began to limp back toward his couch.

“But try not to get killed anymore!” he called over his shoulder. She couldn’t help the guffaw that slipped out. The guffaw turned into a snort and she shook her head, hand on the doorknob. She squared her shoulders, and pushed her way into the bright sunlight of Goodsprings.

The first thing she noticed was the large metal robot rolling down the road. She supposed, unless there was two of them, that this was Victor. Since he was already out and about, she figured she’d stop him first.

“Excuse me!” She called out. The robot stopped in its tracks and came to a stop facing her. The first thing she noticed was a…cowboy? On its screen?

“Howdy pardner! Might I say you’re looking fit as a fiddle?” At this point, she supposed she’d just take the compliment and roll with it.

“Thanks for digging me outta that grave,” she murmured.

“Don’t mention it!” the robot replied cheerfully. “I’m always willing to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need!”

There was something odd about the robot, something that just stuck in her craw, but she figured she’d get the rest of this over with as quickly as possible, then try to track down the “Sunny Smiles” Doc Mitchell had mentioned. With any luck, she was human.

“How did you happen to find me? And do you know who those men were who attacked me?” the questions came out in a rush she hadn’t been anticipating.

“I was out for a stroll that night when I heard a commotion up at the old bone orchard,” the robot explained, flexing metal arms. “Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs, so I laid low.”

_How in God’s name does a robot like that “lay low?”_ she thought to herself.

“Once they’d run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kicking,” Victor explained. “Turns out, you were, so I hauled you off to the Doc right quick. And I can’t say I’m familiar with the rascals. Some of the fine folk in town might be able to help you out with that. Happy trails!” With that, the robot wheeled off to…wherever robots in this town go.

She turned toward the saloon at the center of town. There was an older gentleman on the porch, who introduced himself as Easy Pete. They chatted for a moment, but he didn’t seem to have any new information either. At last, she entered the saloon, and was promptly greeted with a growl.

“Cheyenne, stay,” a woman’s voice commanded. “Don’t worry, she won’t bite unless I tell her to.”

The dog in question sat on its haunches at the command of its master. In the background, the jukebox played.

“Doc Mitchell said you could teach me to survive in the desert. Or…re-learn? I don’t really know…” she trailed off, mumbling.

“Yeah, I guess there’s a thing or two I could show you,” Sunny acquiesced. “Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Meet me outside, behind the saloon. By the way, what am I supposed to call you?”

She thought about it for a moment before speaking.

“I don’t know what my name is, just that I was Courier Six on a job. So…for the time being…maybe just call me Six?” She shrugged. It was the closest thing she had to a name at this point, so why not just go with it? Sunny nodded, and she stepped back outside into the dry Mojave air. Rounding the corner, she found herself behind the saloon, staring at a fence with numerous Sunset Sarsaparilla bottles lined up on top of it.

“See the Sarsaparilla bottles?” Sunny asked. Six nodded. “Take this and try to hit a couple of ‘em.

The varmint rifle felt off in her hands. Deep down, somehow, she knew it was a weapon she didn’t handle often at all. But she took aim through the sights and fired at the first bottle. It exploded with a resounding crack. After several more shots hit their mark in succession, Sunny smiled at her.

“Well, that’s a start, but I don’t reckon you came to me to learn to fight Sarsaparilla bottles,” Sunny laughed. “Tell you what. I gotta go chase geckos away from our water supply anyway. Darn critters are attracted to it. Why don’t you come along?”

It didn’t take her long to decide – shooting a target at a standstill was easy, but a live, moving target? That was obviously gonna be more difficult. She didn’t want to start her journey…wherever she was going, and be completely defenseless. She nodded her acquiescence to Sunny, who started off with Cheyenne.

“Follow me!” Sunny called over her shoulder, and Six scrambled to keep up. “It’s just down to the southeast a short ways.” They soon arrived at a ridge, and Cheyenne’s hackles raised. Sunny motioned for Six to crouch, and whispered some details on how to get closer to get a better shot. Six nodded, and slowly inched closer to the well. She was around 50 feet away when she lined up her shot on the first gecko. Looking down the sight, she pulled the trigger. The gecko slammed into the rock wall behind it, a red hole square in the middle of its chest. Between the two of them, the others quickly followed suit.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it!” Sunny declared cheerfully. Cheyenne barked once as if in agreeance. “There’s two more wells that need clearing. You want, you can come along. It’d be worth a few caps to me.”

Six agreed easily enough. She had around 18 caps to her name currently, if she’d counted properly back at Doc Mitchell’s, and even though she was an amnesiac, she knew that wouldn’t get her anywhere. A few caps being her reward for getting back in the saddle was just fine by her.

The pair cleared the second well easily, and found a woman fighting off geckos with a cleaver at the third. They made quick work of them, and Six was thankful the woman wasn’t hurt too badly – a few bites dotted her arms and legs, but it was nothing that Doc Mitchell couldn’t patch up. Six was certain if he could piece her brain back together, he could fix up just about anyone.

“Now that was some good work,” Sunny complimented. “Even got a little exciting at the end there. Here’s a little spending money for the trouble. One more thing I wanted to show you.”

Cheyenne led the way to a small campground just past the wells. She turned back to Six.

“Thought I might teach you something about living off the land, and making useful things for yourself. Interested?” she asked. Six agreed again. Never knew when something like this would come in handy. Sunny explained that she needed Broc Flowers and Xander Root, which grew at the graveyard and schoolhouse. Six carefully schooled her expression, but going back to the graveyard sent a chill up her spine. Her steps were leaden as she trudged back up, one hand on the butt of the varmint rifle…just in case.

After being accosted by a scorpion and shooting down the flies, Six found the Broc Flower she needed…and her open grave. Blood still splattered the soil, and cigarette butts littered the ground. She picked one up and tucked it into her pocket. If she ever needed a reminder of why she needed to keep going…she now had one in her breast pocket.

After dispatching the mantises at the schoolhouse and gathering her Xander Root, Six made her way back to Sunny. She found her drinking a Sunset Sarsaparilla, Cheyenne obediently lying next to her. She jumped to her feet as Six wandered up, and took the ingredients from her. After declaring them good to go, she set about showing the newcomer how to mash them together into a powder.

Something about the process felt familiar, and the tingle raced up Six’s spine again.

_Quit being a baby,_ she heard herself say. A younger version of herself? _Just lemme put this on your knee and you’ll be good as new, okay?_

After tucking her new powder into her bag, Sunny bade her farewell, and asked that she see Trudy at the saloon. Cheyenne meandered behind her master, an eventful afternoon and the heat finally taking their toll. Six wiped her brow and started back to the saloon as well. Maybe she could sweet-talk this Trudy character into giving her a drink for free? Or a discount?

Walking in the door was refreshing compared to the outside heat. Sunny sat at a booth with Cheyenne beside her, and gave her a grin and a wave as she walked in. Six smiled. She might not remember her own damn name, but new friends were always welcome in her book.

The man standing in front of her; however, seemed anything but friendly.

“I’m done being nice,” the man growled. “If you don’t hand Ringo over soon, I’m going to get my friends, and we’re burning this town to the ground, got it?”

To her credit, the woman he was threatening firmly stood her ground. As she walked back behind the bar, Six realized this was probably Trudy. If she stood firm against threats, puppy eyes probably wouldn’t work either. Rats. Six introduced herself anyway.

Trudy gave her all the information she had, which, comparatively, was plentiful. She knew where they were going and how they intended to get there, which was exactly what Six needed. She bemoaned the loss of her radio to one of the “Great Khans” with Mr. Checkered Suit.

“More like Great Assholes to me,” Six mumbled under her breath. Trudy let out a laugh and agreed.

“Want me to take a look at your broken radio?” Six asked. Think of it as petty revenge against the assholes who left her for dead.

“Sure. The outside looks okay, but I think something broke on the inside,” Trudy explained. “There’d be caps in it for you. I do like to hear what’s going on in the world. And that Mr. New Vegas seems like such a gentleman.”

Without further ado, Six popped open the toolbox on the counter and dug for a screwdriver. Within half an hour, the radio blared static. Changing the station as if on instinct, Six found Radio New Vegas, and Mr. New Vegas introduced the next song as one of his very favorites.

Trudy paid up in caps, which Six used to grab a drink before doing anything else. It had been one long fucking day, and whiskey sounded like just what she needed. Trudy nodded approvingly and went back to wiping down the bar. When she was finished, she bid the bartender farewell and walked out, seeking this Ringo fella.

Trudy watched her retreating back with a small frown tugging at her face. She felt for the young lady, truly. She’d been over to Doc Mitchell’s for several days, hoping she’d wake up, and today she dropped in when the young lady was out with Sunny. Now, she was awake, but at what cost? She didn’t know her own name, for heaven’s sake! She had no idea who she was prior to a gunshot to the head beyond the fact that she was Courier Six. Sunny sidled up beside her and patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Trudy, I showed her everything I know,” Sunny grinned at the town mom. Trudy shook her head and flicked the back of her head.

“That’s what worries me!” Trudy laughed.

Meanwhile, at the abandoned gas station, Six was getting raked over the coals by Ringo in a game of Caravan after a tense introduction at gunpoint. Pouting, she passed the young man 25 caps before standing and stretching. Her back popped in several places and she groaned.

“So, what are you gonna do about the Powder Gangers?” Six asked curiously. Ringo visibly wilted.

“I’m going to lay low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn’t throw me to the wolves. I’ve got no chance against the gang on my own.” Six frowned.

“You can’t just stay here forever, Ringo. Either the town’s gonna riot or they’re gonna blow it to pieces. Maybe I can help,” Six said thoughtfully. Together, they devised a plan. Six said goodbye to Ringo and headed back toward the saloon. Night was falling, and she needed to talk to Sunny.

Sunny was in nearly before she finished her sentence, but she knew the others would need convincing. Doc Mitchell might be easy to persuade, same with Trudy, but Six knew she’d have some trouble with Easy Pete, and lots of trouble with Chet. She wasn’t exactly silver-tongued, but she was passionate about helping this kid out of a sticky spot. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

As predicted, Trudy was fairly easy to convince, and Six was thankful. She knew Trudy would largely be the rallying force around the town, and that was what was desperately important. She resolved to talk to the others in the morning, and headed back to the gas station to see if she could bed down there for the night. If not, she’d take a walk next door and see if Doc Mitchell would extend his courtesy for another night.

Six was up with the sun, while Ringo was still out cold on the other mattress. She would’ve laughed if it wouldn’t have woken him, and quietly set off to speak to Doc Mitchell. He was closest in proximity and was likely going to be the easiest of the rest to convince.

She was correct again. Doc Mitchell sighed over the nature of people, but was able to round up some supplies in case they’d need them – hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. Easy Pete was next on her list, and he was sitting just outside the saloon.

“Too dangerous,” Pete lectured. “Gonna kill all yourselves if I let you touch it. Better to leave it buried – safer that way.” Six sighed.

It took half the morning to convince Pete the townsfolk could handle the dynamite if they needed it, and using it to keep the town safe was in everyone’s best interest if it came down to brass tacks.

Lastly, she trudged over to the General Store. Based on Sunny’s tone yesterday, she was _not_ going to look forward to this. Chet welcomed her easily enough, but his attitude turned sour when she mentioned the fighting and a need for supplies.

“Now just hold on,” Chet began. “I never voted to take on the Gangers. That a thousand cap investment you’re talking about.”

_Oh goody,_ Six thought. _The self-righteous money-grubbing type. Joy of joys._

Her lips were pursed into a line, and her face was devoid of emotion. For a moment, Chet wavered, but set his jaw and crossed his arms.

“Fine,” Six chuckled, but there was no humor in her voice. “Let them take over the town, then. I’m sure your business will be _much_ better off.”

Chet’s face shifted again as he thought about life under Powder Ganger rule – if there even would _be_ a life. The Gangers might just take them all out and take over the store for themselves. This wasn’t charity work, or anything like that. He wasn’t taking a loss! It was self-preservation!

Support secured, Six headed back to the gas station to inform Ringo. The two sat together preparing their guns when Sunny burst in the door.

“Time to look alive,” Sunny said breathlessly. “Powder Gangers are here to play.” She passed both of them several sticks of dynamite courtesy of Easy Pete, as well as armor in decent condition, and surplus ammo. Hey, they’d take what they could get.

“I really hope I don’t blow myself up…” Six heard her mutter as she rushed back out the door. Six followed her, setting up down the road from the saloon. She laid down on her stomach behind a large rock, and looked through the scope of the sniper rifle she’d had when she was brought to Doc Mitchell’s. As soon as she saw the Gangers, she opened fire, taking Joe Cobb’s head off with one shot.

Several other shots popped off in rapid succession, largely from herself, Sunny and Ringo. Catching the Gangers off guard when they were still on the road proved effective. Chet took a stray round to the knee – _serves him right_ – but was the only injury in the ensuing gunfight. Pete and Sunny helped him hobble to Doc Mitchell’s, moaning and groaning all the way.

Six disassembled the gun in a way she could only say was instinctual and replaced it in her pack. Ringo rushed her, throwing caps at her and making her promise to visit the Crimson Caravan Company if she ever headed toward New Vegas. Internally, she knew that was where her road led. She tried to give the caps back to Ringo, stating she didn’t help him for money, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, just insisting that she visit Crimson Caravan for the rest of her payment.

She approached Sunny on her way back to the saloon to retrieve Cheyenne, who she’d penned up for obvious reasons.

“Hey, I wanted to thank you for everything. I mean…with helping me get back on my feet, and the whole Ringo thing. I just have one more thing to ask you,” Six said, walking back into the saloon with her new friend.

“Shoot!” Sunny said with a smile. She leaned down and scratched Cheyenne behind the ears.

“Trudy said the idiots who shot me mentioned the Strip, and that they wanted to avoid the I-15. I’m guessing Primm is my next stop, since that’s where the Mojave Express is located. Can you suggest a route?” Six explained. Sunny nodded.

“Sure can. Take the road southeast out of town till it hits the freeway. Primm is the town with the roller coaster, straight south. Can’t miss it. NCR patrols do a good job of keeping the highway clear, but I’d keep your gun where you can reach it easily. You never know who you’ll run into. Off the road, you’ll start running into hostile wildlife. My advice would be stick to the highway when you can. Oh, and you don’t have to thank me. I’m just trying to help a new friend. One other thing from me…” Sunny trailed off. Six cocked an eyebrow

“When you think of your name, let me know, okay? Kinda weird just having to call you Six!” Sunny laughed, and Six couldn’t help but join in. This had been one goddamned weird week by Six’s standards – she’d been shot in the head, forgotten basically everything that wasn’t an ingrained instinct, but managed to make friends with the whole damn town that saved her in less than two days. She reached down to pat Cheyenne, and was instead greeted with a full-face lick.

Sputtering, Six rocked backwards onto her ass, setting both of them off into another laughing fit. Trudy came out from around the bar to see what the commotion was, only to find Six sitting on the floor, face covered in saliva, Sunny with tears of laughter streaming down her face, and Cheyenne sitting on the floor looking pleased as punch. She smiled, hoping Six would come back one day.

When she could stop laughing for more than five minutes at a time, she stood and bid everyone farewell before facing the southeastern edge of town. Powder Ganger bodies still littered the road, and she stepped around them, looting them for ammo as she went. Hey, she was light in the cap-purse and very obviously had a journey ahead of her. It’s not like they need it anymore. She could see Primm’s dilapidated roller coaster as she rounded the bend, though it was a nice, long way off. Maybe around a 6- or 7-hour walk – she’d probably make it there around sundown.

The road felt familiar as she walked, but no other senses of warmth raced up her spine. She just trusted her feet to lead the way and take her to the smarmy sonofabitch who’d stolen her chip and left her for dead.


	2. Worry Worry Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Primm would hold the answers she was looking for -- Six was sure of it. The Mojave Express and Johnson Nash would surely know her, and maybe she'd even catch up to Mr. Checkered Suit if she was lucky. But Primm holds more answers than Six would ever imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! Coming at you with chapter two of Return to Sender! Thank you all for the views/kudos/bookmarks, etc.

_Worry, worry, worry_

_Woe is me_

“Worry, Worry, Worry” by The Three Suns

The road rolled out in front of Six like a welcome home. She knew as a courier, she had to have walked this route dozens, if not hundreds of times, but nothing in particular sparked in the back of her head. She’d just passed the Powder Ganger camp, just past Jean Sky Dive, but they’d largely ignored her in favor of fighting off the geckos attacking their camp. That suited Six just fine – she’d prefer to get to Primm in one piece, and preferably with as much ammo as possible.

Now alone with her thoughts, she turned to what Trudy and Sunny had told her of the Mojave. These days, the NCR and Legion were ramping up for another fight for Hoover Dam. NCR. Now there’s something that tickled in the back of her mind. This time it wasn’t a voice, but an image – a memory.

 _He’d smiled at her through blood-soaked teeth_ , Six remembered. _His handsome face contorted in pain a moment later, pain Med-X hadn’t been able to dull. She’d cut through his uniform with an old knife she’d had lying around, and stabbed him with another stimpak. It was working, she could tell, but there was still pain written on his face. When the bullet was out – deftly plucked out with pre-war tweezers and dropped into a nearby bowl – and skin had begun to knit itself back together courtesy of the stimpaks, he’d smiled at her again, and offered a quiet thank you. She’d allowed herself to return his smile, before moving to the next one._

But where and when did that happen? And why? She was a courier, not a doctor…right? If she was _just_ a simple courier, why was she armed like she was? Even Sunny Smiles made do protecting Goodsprings with a varmint rifle, while she was loaded down with a variety of weapons.

Turning her thoughts to the Legion, Six shuddered. Another memory dominated her senses for a moment.

 _She’d been leaving…Flagstaff? Or was it Two Sun? Whichever one rested along the 40, she’d been leaving. She’d delivered…something, to an older gentleman. Nothing bad just…maybe it was sentimental?_ Truthfully, she wasn’t sure of the details. _She’d walked out into the baking sun, and made it maybe 3 miles out of the settlement when she saw them. She’d call it a puddle of blood, but it was bigger – so much bigger. It looked like a river of blood had overflowed its banks and left its mess in the middle of the Mojave sand. Bits of…oh God, was that bone...? stuck out, gleaming white and red. In the center stood two decanus legionnaires. They had their back to her, but turned quickly upon hearing her footsteps. She raised her hands in pacification, offering a simple, “I’m just a courier.” The taller of the two responded with a gruff, “Move along, Profligate,” and Six all but fled._

She never found out what they’d just killed, or if she did, she didn’t remember – and frankly, she was certain she didn’t want to know. She was nearly halfway to Primm now, the giant death trap called a roller coaster looming closer in the distance. Mr. New Vegas had been quiet company after she’d fiddled with the Pip-Boy Doc Mitchell had given her, and found she’d had a radio on the damn thing. She’d only been walking for around three hours, but if _Johnny Guitar_ played one more fucking time, she’d probably have to take matters into her own hands and finish what Mr. Checkered Suit started.

She picked off a few more geckos trying to rush her, and quickly made her way to Primm. Her shoulders ached from the rucksack she carried, and her feet were sore from the 6 hour walk with no breaks, but damn was it ever worth it. She snagged a drink from her canteen before she was stopped by an NCR soldier.

“Hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked, genuinely sounding surprised. “Primm is off limits.”

“What’s going on in Primm?” Six countered. She didn’t give a damn, she was going in. She wanted – no, _needed_ – to know more not only about herself, but about her delivery and the men who tried to waste her in the middle of the Wasteland.

“Some convicts from the prison up the road here have taken over the town,” he answered. “Everyone inside is either dead or hiding.”

Six felt the blood drain from her face. Dead? _Dead?_ What if this Johnson Nash was dead? What would happen then? Would someone else know her? Be able to explain? Or was all of this going to be for naught?

“What’s more, there are two tribes of raiders causing trouble in the area as well,” the trooper continued. “You’d be safer heading back up to Goodsprings.”

Safer. As if that was an option. At this point in the game, “safer” didn’t exist. She would’ve been safer lying in that grave to rot. Or never taking a job as a courier in the first place. Fuck safer.

“Thanks for the warning.” She damn near growled through gritted teeth. Her head throbbed. Soldier boy seemed not to notice.

“Be careful,” the trooper warned. “You may want to talk to Lieutenant Hayes. He’s in a tent down the road. Just stay on the west side of the overpass if you don’t want to get shot.”

 _Yeah, fuck that_ , Six thought as the man walked away. _My identity might be in that town, and you can bet your ass I’m gonna find it. You can take that straight to New Vegas and bet on it._

And frankly speaking, Six could not possibly give less of a damn about this “Lieutenant Hayes” soldier boy mentioned. When she found out who she was and where she was going, she’d be back to talk to him. Until then, fuck that, she had other places to be, and hopefully, other people to see.

She quietly snuck into town, trying to avoid the prying eyes of the NCR soldiers stationed across the way, as well as the convicts in the town proper. She pulled the sniper rifle out of her rucksack again, aimed through the scope and…

Missed?

Convict Number One had moved at the very last second. The bullet intended for his skull arced wide and found its home in the Bison Steve Hotel. She cursed as it brought her the attention of not one, but two convicts. One was armed with only a pipe, so he couldn’t do much damage at long range, but the other was armed with a pistol, maybe a 9mm or 10mm. Thinking quickly, Six snagged the 10mm in the holster resting on her hip and fired off a shot. Convict Number Two took a bullet to the hip, slowing him down permanently. He howled as he went down, losing his gun in the process.

Convict Number One continued his advance, despite the fact that she had a longer-range weapon than he did. Unless he was gonna throw that pipe, he was woefully under-armed, and essentially bringing a laser pistol to a grenade launcher fight. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t on the receiving end of a second chance, only a bullet to the brain.

Convict Number Two was too busy trying to crawl for the gun he’d dropped on his one-way ticket to the ground to notice the death of his partner in crime, and was similarly surprised to receive another bullet – this one to the chest.

Six grimaced, though not over the bodies now lying in the street. Soldier boy had warned her of trouble ahead, so at least she knew to expect it. She frowned over precious wasted ammo. With a heavy sigh, she re-holstered her 10mm, taking a moment to run her fingers over the grooves carved into the metal with care, and turned her attention to the body, obviously dead, sitting upright next to the Mojave Express building.

She knelt next to him and peeked through the bag he was carrying, and found he was Daniel Wyand, otherwise known as Courier Four. His package to the Strip consisted of a set of fuzzy dice. Six frowned – what kind of freak of nature was asking for these things to be delivered? She looked into the young man’s face, hoping for some sort of recognition, and was granted a short-lived memory.

_She sat next to the young man on a bar stool, beer in one hand. Someone had said something, she couldn’t tell what, but the man – Daniel – had burst into hysterical laughter. She heard another laugh, more feminine, and thought it to be herself._

The memory cut off abruptly, but was more than enough to make her smile sadly. They’d apparently been on good terms, and even if she really didn’t remember him, she was saddened by his death. Blank eyes stared into the street, and Six noted what had killed him – a bullet to the brain. How ironic. She reached over and gently shut his eyes, whispered a small prayer, and got to her feet again.

She opened the door to the Mojave Express, hand on her holster, but was greeted with silence and a broken robot. She called out, hoping and praying for an answer, but received nothing. She snooped through the house, terrified of finding bodies and blood, but was once more met with nothing. She wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or terrified.

Stepping outside again, she checked her surroundings, hoping that Dumb and Dumber’s compatriots hadn’t wondered where they’d gone. She found the streets just as empty as before, and now turned her attention to their bodies. Convict Number One had several sticks of dynamite on him that Six pocketed, hoping for a quick resale. She did the same with Convict Number Two, swiping his ammo, gun, and dynamite. Now she turned toward the Vikki and Vance Casino. If survivors or bodies weren’t there, she’d check the Bison Steve Hotel.

She grabbed the heavy wooden door in one hand, and was promptly greeted with the barrels of two guns. Both men lowered them at the sight of her.

“Sam?” the younger of the two asked in disbelief. There was a breathy, hopeful quality to his voice. “Sam? Is it really you?”

“Uh…who’s Sam?” Six asked earnestly. The young man in front of her was in his early twenties, with hair at near shoulder length tied back with a strip of leather. The hands gripping the hunting shotgun were callused and nicked with clear signs of use. His face, so much like her own, was scrunched as he peered at her. He laughed after a moment.

“Jesus, Sam! Don’t kid around like that!” he exclaimed, trying to loop an arm around her shoulders. He had a solid five or six inches on her, so she ducked out from under his arm.

“I’m not joking!” she suddenly shouted. Small conversations taking place in the back of the casino ground to a halt. “Who the hell is Sam!?”

The young man went silent, studying her with an air of concern mixed with annoyance.

“Sam, it’s Darren,” he said slowly. “Your brother? You don’t remember me?”

The memories hit her like a bullet just then.

_Fourteen and eleven respectively, mourning the parents they loved together. Sixteen, coming home from the Capital Wasteland disappointed with a pretty but broken 10mm pistol, only to wake to a smug teenage face as he proclaimed that he’d fixed it. Seventeen and watching proudly as he fixed a neighbor’s rifle good-as-new, if not better, after he’d been attacked by nightstalkers. Eighteen and holding his shoulders, begging him to be careful as he joined the caravan he’d be guarding all the way to California._

Her head swam as she reached up to press the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the aching to leave and the memories to stay. She felt a hand grip her shoulder, and looked up at the young m- no, Darren, in front of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, real concern in his voice. Six – or was she Sam? – willed away nausea and nodded, then shook her head.

“Maybe we should sit down and talk?” Darren cajoled. Six agreed readily, and sat down heavily at one of the defunct Blackjack tables. Darren pulled up a chair beside her, and silently asked for an explanation. They’d always been good like that – able to communicate with just eyes and gestures. Darren always thought they’d made a great team because they didn’t require words.

“Did you…have you listened to Radio New Vegas recently?” Six asked, starting her story. Darren nodded. “Did you hear about that package courier who got shot in the head near Goodsprings?”

Darren went deathly pale. He may not be the most social of people, and his perception of the world may be a little skewed by solitude, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. Quite the opposite, he usually cottoned on to things quicker than others.

“You mean to tell me,” Darren started, slowly and quietly. “That you were shot in the head? That someone shot you in the head?”

Six may not really remember much about him, but she could tell he was furious. His face was tight around the eyes, and his jaw was set. His shoulders were tensed, and his fists were clenched. She just nodded.

“I don’t really remember much,” she continued. “A robot dug me outta my grave in Goodsprings. I don’t remember much of anything before…it. I get flashes every once in a while, but they’re not really coherent. Fuck, I don’t even know who I am!”

By now she was near hysterics, and Darren had turned towards her.

“You’re Sam,” he declared fiercely. “You’re my older sister. You’re 24, and a courier for the Mojave Express. You freelanced for years before you were picked up by the Express a few years back. You’ve been running courier work since you were 14 and I was 11, right after our parents kicked the bucket. You did it to take care of us and make sure we were fed and healthy. You didn’t make too much at first, but you worked your way up. You also doctored in our little neighborhood. You were shot not too far from home…that’s probably why you had your guard down…you were almost home…”

He trailed off, looking troubled. He shook his head before he continued.

“Folks would come to you for anything. Broken bones, cuts, scrapes, babies, you name it. You never charged ‘em those steep Wasteland doctor prices. Hell, you’d help ‘em for free if you could, ‘specially if you knew they were worse off than us. Once, some wounded NCR troops rumbled through on their way back from the Dam. You were pretty insistent they stay a spell so you could fix ‘em up. Nobody ever died on your watch, not without a fuckton of effort, at least. You fix people, I fix stuff. That pistol on your hip? Yeah, that was my handiwork.”

He looked proud of that, and Sam couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, I got a flash of that. Don’t really remember the ordeal, just that you fixed it,” she said slowly, savoring the memory. He nodded.

“Yeah,” Darren started. “You’d just gotten back from the Capital Wasteland. Said you found it on some dead Talon Company merc you’d stumbled upon. Said it looked like he’d been plugged so full of holes if he drank something, it’d all just leak out again. So, you helped yourself, I guess. ‘Not like he’ll need it anymore,’ you said. It wasn’t working, though. Was all jammed up. Took all night with a repair kit to get it back to working condition. That grin on your face was worth it. You started bringing all kinds of shit home just so I could take it apart and see how it worked.

“You started fixing other peoples’ things, too,” Sam breathed. Darren smiled.

“Like I said, you fixed people, I fixed stuff,” he explained. “I run with caravans too, every now and then. Nowadays, if I run with a caravan, it’s with Crimson Caravan. I was leaving on a job for Boneyard when you were leaving for the Strip. Figured you’d beat me back no problems – my trip took almost a month and a half, figured yours would take two weeks at the most, and that’s if you stayed in Vegas for a minute. You always like visiting the Strip. You usually hit The Tops and Gomorrah, but you like The Tops better. You always flirt with that doorman – what’s his name? Swank? – and he gives you some caps to, ‘buy yourself something nice.’ Gag.”

Darren’s face was screwed up in disgust, and Sam just laughed.

“But you weren’t home when I got there, and I knew you didn’t take another job – you always left me a note if you were gonna be gone again before I came back. Wasn’t the first time, at least. I came to Primm to hunt down Mr. Nash, see if you’d checked in, but…”

Darren gestured to the room around them.

“It all went to hell, but Mr. Nash said he hadn’t seen you – guess I know why now…” Darren pursed his lips. “I’m sorry about your friend…Daniel? Yeah, Daniel. We tried to corral everyone into the Vikki and Vance, but he didn’t get in in time…couldn’t risk all of us for one person. Food supplies are starting to run low, and we need out, but…”

“Together,” Sam said, mind already made up. “I already took care of the two idiots roaming around outside. I need to talk to Johnson about the delivery, get some info…you didn’t happen to see an asshole in a checkered suit come through, did you?”

Darren shook his head, and Sam nodded sadly. She’d been hoping for information on the checkered wannabe gunslinger, but honestly, this was better. She had a name – Sam – a younger brother, and a past. She might not remember it yet, but he sure as hell did. She stood from her stool, and meandered up to Johnson Nash, Darren trailing right behind her.

“I don’t know what it was brought you to Primm, youngster, but you might want to rethink your plans,” Nash said on greeting. “Town’s gone to hell.”

Youngster. Now there’s something she remembered hearing, and often. As far as she could remember, her boss had never called her by name, just youngster.

“Johnson, can you give some info on this delivery? I lost the package I was supposed to deliver,” Sam explained. Nash nodded and asked for the delivery order.

“Oh…so you’re talking about one of those…packages,” Nash’s voice had taken on a strange quality that set Sam on edge. She felt Darren shift behind her as well. “That job had strange written all over it. But we couldn’t turn down the caps.”

“Strange? What was strange about it?” Sam asked.

“That cowboy robot had us hire six couriers,” Nash explained. “Each was carrying something a little different. A pair of dice, a chess piece, that kinda stuff. Last word I had from the office, it looked like payment had been received for the other five jobs. Guess it was just your chip that didn’t make it.”

The two talked for awhile longer, confirming that Mr. Checkered Suit had in fact come through town with his Great Khan cronies. Deputy Beagle would have more information…but Deputy Beagle was currently the guest of honor at the Bison Steve Hotel…chock full of Powder Gangers.

“Joy,” Sam muttered. “Looks like we’re going on a rescue mission.” At least Nash had been able to confirm that Mr. Checkered Suit had, in fact, come through Primm. They were on the right track. Darren nodded.

“Let’s go. It’s nighttime now – perfect time for an ambush, right?” Darren said. Sam just groaned. She checked her weapons while Darren checked his own, then traded with him. It felt fluid, like they’d never left off.

“Why did we just do that?” Sam asked. It felt like a vast majority of her memory was still muddled. She did things on instinct or because it was an engrained muscle movement. Darren looked disappointed.

“We’ve done this since we were kids,” he explained, not unkindly. “Whenever we go out, we check our own weapons, then trade to check the other’s. That way we know everything’s loaded and in working order before we go out.”

Sam nodded, trying to remember. Up until now, such explanations would’ve sparked a memory, but she got nothing. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. In due time, she hoped.

Together, they strolled out the door of the Vikki and Vance. Darren had gotten to know some of the townspeople in the time they’d been stuck in the casino, and they wished the two of them luck. Silently, they crossed to the Bison Steve. Sam crouched on the left side of the door, with Darren on the right. Weapons drawn, they slowly pushed the double doors open.

Standing inside were two convicts in the nearest doorway. Under the cover of night, they were able to take them out quickly, Sam utilizing her 10mm for quick shots. They crept around the counter to find a locked room and a safe. Together, they made quick work of the door, but found they couldn’t get the safe opened.

“Oh well,” Sam whispered, sticking the bobby pin back in her hair to hold her bangs out of her face. “Guess it’s just not meant to be.”

Darren nodded, and they continued on down the hall. They came to a large room with four convicts milling about. They drew back toward the door to discuss their options.

“My biggest concern is the guy with the flamer,” Sam whispered. Darren nodded his agreement. “I’m going to snipe him. I can’t see the weapons on anyone else, though.”

“Neither can I. I’m just going to pick off whoever I can with the shotgun. I usually like to get up close and personal, but…I ain’t looking to get roasted tonight, on the off-chance you miss.”

Sam rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, and Darren couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. She might not remember it, but that was such a Sam face.

Together, they found themselves at the doorway of the large room again. Sam lined up her shot, and took it. The head of the convict wielding the flamer exploded from his shoulders, and everything blurred from there. Darren took the other three down in rapid succession, and they stood together to check the damage. They reloaded their weapons and looted the bodies of some much-needed supplies before walking down a smaller hallway.

Kneeling on the floor of the kitchen was a man with silver-blonde hair, tied up in the corner.

“I’m assuming you’re Deputy Beagle?” Sam asked, stowing her sniper rifle.

“Why, yes I am. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Beagle said boisterously. Sam raised a copper eyebrow and turned to Darren. “I’m in a bit of a… _perdicament_ … here. I’d be _most_ appreciative if you’d set me free.”

Sam’s mouth was a flat line as she looked at Darren, and her eyes spoke a thousand words. Darren fought back a chuckle. His sister’s entire face broadcast how unimpressed she was. She might be a skilled fighter, but deep down, Sam was an intellectual, and Beagle had lost her the moment he mangled the word “predicament” so badly.

“I hear you may have some information on some Khans that came through here with a guy in a checkered suit,” Sam said slowly and pseudo-patiently.

“My good lady,” Beagle began. Sam could feel her IQ dropping, and Darren stifled a snort. “I believe I may have some information that would prove useful.”

Beagle did his best to gesture to his bound hands, and Sam took pity on him. Pulling one of her knives from her boots, she cut his bonds. The deputy stood, rubbing his wrists.

“Oh, that’s just marvelous!” Beagle exclaimed. “I’ll just be making my way outside now. The air’s a little close in here!”

With that, Beagle darted away before Sam or Darren had the chance to stop him. She turned to look at her brother.

“Did we really bust in here to rescue a wingnut who can’t even say ‘predicament’ right?” she asked incredulously. Darren didn’t bother to stifle his laughter this time as his sister led the way outside after the newly freed deputy. They found him just outside the door.

“Now you stop right there, Deputy!” Sam shouted. “Either you give me the information I need, or I’ll just have to shoot you down where you stand!”

Darren watched as his sister went off. She’d always had a bit of a hair-trigger temper, and clearly being shot in the head hadn’t cured that. He was more than happy to let her handle the social side of things, preferring to keep to his machines more than people, but he couldn’t help but step in on this instance. His sister’s face was red to her neck, and it was clear she was fighting mad.

“Sam…he can’t give us the information we need if he’s dead,” Darren muttered. Sam instead fixed the deputy with a scathing glare.

“My brother is right, so you’ve got until the count of ten to start answering my questions. After that…” Sam trailed off ominously. Truly, she was fairly short of stature compared to most other people, but she was an atomic blast waiting to happen when she was well and truly pissed, and became rather intimidating when she reached that level of furiousness. The deputy looked ready to faint on the spot.

“Ah…well…yes, my memory is much clearer now that I am free of my bondage…” Beagle began haltingly. Sam continued to stare him down. “I was sku—er, performing recon, gathering information on some of the Powder Gangers, when some Great Khans arrived with your friend in the suit. They were talking about some delivery they took from a courier. I assume that was you. They said they’d be heading through Nipton to Novac to meet a contact there.”

Sam’s teeth were gritted, jaw set, seething, but not at the deputy any longer. Nipton? Novac? The names were meaningless to her now. All it meant was Mr. Checkered Suit was still at least one step ahead. Darren put his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Looks like it’s Novac for us,” he said seriously. Sam blinked.

“You’re coming with?” Sam asked, surprised. Darren rolled his eyes.

“Last time I let you go off by yourself, you got yourself shot in the head!” he exclaimed. “So yes, I’m coming with!”

“Now wait just a second!” Deputy Beagle cried. The siblings turned back to him.

“There’s still no law in Primm! What’re we to do the next time ruffians menace us and hold us hostage?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. Her tone screamed, _you idiot!_ “You’re the sheriff now!”

Beagle declined, stating he was only a deputy, and truthfully, Darren was thankful. That pompous windbag would probably sooner wet himself than shoot someone.

“We’ll bring law and order back to Primm,” Darren piped up. Sam sighed, but knew it was the right thing to do. The town wouldn’t survive without someone protecting it, and Mr. Checkered Suit could wait…or get swallowed by the Mojave, for all she cared. Though truthfully, she’d rather sort him out herself.

After Deputy Beagle’s explanation of what would make a “good” sheriff and ideas on where to look, Sam and Darren headed back to the Vikki and Vance together. They sat at the same table they did prior, and began to hash out their options.

“I don’t like the sound of this Meyers fella,” Sam declared. “Why would we put a prisoner in charge of law and order? Plus, he’s locked up at NCRCF, and me and the Powder Gangers ain’t exactly on good terms at this point.”

“Why’s that?” Darren asked. “I mean…I don’t expect anyone to be on good terms with convicts, but what makes you say that?” Sam grinned.

“There was a…situation, back when I was in Goodsprings. They pretty much wanted to raze the town to the ground, and I helped rally the town. I didn’t think they’d take the leader – Joe Cobb – and his band of dumbass’s bullshit lying down, but it took some of ‘em some convincing. We didn’t leave any survivors, but I know word’s gotten back to ‘em by now,” Sam explained, gesturing at her Pip-Boy. Frank Sinatra crooned softly out of its speakers. “They helped me. I wasn’t just gonna forget it and leave ‘em high and dry.”

Darren blinked. His sister. A gunfight. Right after waking up after being shot in the head. What the hell? He shook his head, then grabbed for the Pip-Boy.

“This is cool,” he breathed as he looked it over. “Where’d ya get it? Thought this usually came with Vaulties.”

“Doc Mitchell was from a Vault,” Sam said, nodding. “He passed it off to me when I left. It’s got a map, which is something I really, really need now.”

Darren frowned. His sister knew the Mojave up, down, and sideways, but now required a map to get around. He wondered just how scrambled her egg was.

“So, no to Meyers,” Darren said slowly. “I wonder if we could hook Primm Slim up to be sheriff.”

Sam looked to the cowboy robot wandering the casino floor. Truthfully, she was getting damned sick of cowboy robots at this point.

“I’m sure you _could_ ,” Sam started. “But should you? I mean, he’s a robot. Just logic. No human emotion, no leniency, nothing. Just subroutines and all that shit you know more about than me. Besides, who’s gonna back him up if the Powder Gangers or someone comes to play? Beagle? I think he’d probably piss himself. I think NCR is the way to go.”

Darren rolled the idea around in his head. True, Primm Slim wouldn’t be the greatest choice, but…when the pickings were slim…he snorted at his pun. The NCR would have the manpower to repel any attacks from the Powder Gangers or worse, but if that was the case…

“Why haven’t they helped yet?” Darren asked. “I mean, they’re right across the road! How hard is it to gather a few men, and charge in here? We did it, and there’s only two of us!”

“Ahhhh, but dear brother!” Sam exclaimed. “We’re two of the greatest gunslingers alive! We don’t need no NCR backup!”

The siblings dissolved into giggles while the people of Primm looked on. Sobering up, Sam explained.

“Look, the taxes will be shit, but it’s the price you pay for safety. They’ll be able to shut down the Powder Gangers or Legion or God only knows what else, and won’t shake in their boots every time someone new comes to town. Here’s the plan if it sounds good to you,” Sam explained. “We’ll bed down here for the night. According to the Pip-Boy, it’s almost 2 AM, and I’m one tired bitch. Tomorrow, we’ll stroll across the road and meet with the guy in charge over there…I think they said his name was Lieutenant Hayes? Whatever. We’ll chat with him and get the lowdown on why they haven’t helped Primm as is. If we don’t get a satisfactory answer, we’ll start investigating this Meyers guy. I don’t like it, but he’d probably do a spot better than the bot over there. Sound good?”

Darren nodded. It sounded like a solid plan to him. He led Sam over to the corner he’d laid his bedroll in and helped her make up hers before they both slept.

When they woke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky, and Sam grumbled.

“I wanted to get an early start,” Sam muttered as she packed up her bedroll. “But I guess we were both whipped, huh?”

Darren nodded his agreeance, and the two set out across the road. After being stopped by the guard and a quick question and answer session, they were pointed in the direction of Lieutenant Hayes’s tent.

“Lieutenant Hayes?” Sam asked as they walked in. A brunette man wearing NCR armor and beret stood to greet them.

“Yes, I’m Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic Army, 5th Battalion, 1st Company. What’s your business?”

“Primm’s in dire need of some real law,” Darren explained over his sister’s shoulder. Sam nodded.

“We know Primm is a great strategic point, and we aren’t blind to the needs of the town, but we’re barely holding our own against the Powder Gangers,” Hayes explained. “We don’t have the guns, or the personnel needed to carry out our mission, much less take on defending this town as well.” Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What do you need to take over protecting this town? The last thing you need is Powder Gangers or Legion running it over,” Sam said. Hayes sighed.

“What we need, more than anything, is bodies,” Hayes replied. “If we had just one more squad, we could easily install a sheriff and still handle our primary objective of protecting the interstate south of here. If you’d like to see NCR include protection of Primm in its duties, then you’ll have to get some more troops up here. Knight, at Mojave Outpost, may be able to help.”

Sam turned to Darren. It was worth a shot, her face said. She checked her Pip-Boy, and saw Mojave Outpost would be around a 6 or 7 hour walk.

“Thank you for your time, Lieutenant,” Sam said cordially. “I think we’ll be heading out to the Outpost now. Have a good day.”

“Sir, Ma’am,” Hayes nodded to them, and they exited the tent.

“So…Mojave Outpost?” Sam asked quietly. “If we leave now, we’ll make it there by nightfall. Hopefully, we’ll be able to bed down there, and leave tomorrow morning with another squad of troops.”

Darren nodded. It was worth a go compared to a convict or a robot. Together, the two headed out of town to the south.

After around two hours of walking, the duo decided to stop for a water break near what appeared to be an abandoned building. The Pip-Boy called it the Nevada Highway Patrol Station, and it looked like a great place to get out of the blazing sun, if only for a little while.

“I have got one _bad_ feeling,” Sam muttered as she got closer. Suddenly, she grabbed Darren’s arm.

“ _Pssssst!_ ” she whispered harshly. “See that?”

Darren did not, and voiced as much. Sam knelt and dug in her pack for the binoculars she knew she had. She passed them to Darren wordlessly. He stared toward the station when he saw movement. There were several vaguely humanoid shapes near the station.

“It’s ghouls and people…raiders?” Sam whispered as she set up her sniper rifle. “I’m gonna see how it plays out, then take out the victor. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Darren replied, continuing to watch through the binoculars. They were Jackals, if he had to guess. They tended to hang out in this area, though they’d been keeping a lower profile thanks to the convicts. He saw two shapes fall, with several others pinning it to the ground. The doors burst open as two other Jackals entered the melee.

“Looks like the ghouls won the first one,” Sam relayed. Darren nodded as his sister lined up her shot. In rapid succession, ghouls fell to the ground from gun blasts that didn’t belong to Lights Out, Sam’s rifle. He wondered briefly if she remembered naming it.

_“I’m calling it Lights Out,” Sam declared. She was newly seventeen, and had just returned from a freelance delivery to the Commonwealth. She’d come home, sniper rifle in hand, regaling Darren with tales of what the Commonwealth was like. She’d met an odd character, she said._

_“He was kinda weird,” Sam explained. Darren bobbed his head, enraptured by his sister’s stories. “He was bald and wore sunglasses. Like. All the time. Anyhow, he gave this to me. I was up near the Fusion building – Mass Fusion, I think? – and I didn’t realize it’d been taken over by Gunners. Led me outta there back to Diamond City. Asked me what kinda weapon I like to use, and I told ‘im I like to stay distanced. He called me a good kid and handed me this! I tried to give it back, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer! Weirdo, but…at least he was a nice weirdo? Think we can put a silencer on it?”_

_“It’ll decrease the range, but yeah, if you wanna. Hafta buy one though…don’t think I’ve got one here…” Darren replied as he rummaged around. With a triumphant grin, Sam pulled out a silencer from her pack. Darren regarded her with a cocked eyebrow._

_“Already stopped by Diamond City on my way back! Arturo runs the stand there, Commonwealth Weaponry! I’ll have to take you with me sometime!” Sam grinned, ruffling Darren’s hair. He squawked indignantly and grabbed both the gun and silencer. Her grin grew wider as he shuffled away._

_“You can have your gun back when you learn to leave my hair alone!” He called with irritation over his shoulder._

He was pulled from his reverie by two quick pops. Sam stood, brushing the dust from her armor.

“That takes care’a that!” She declared, disassembling the gun like she’d done thousands of times before. Darren smiled. Peacemaker, the 10mm she toted might be her most handy weapon, but Lights Out would always be her baby.

Together, they scouted out the station, looting the first aid kit and weapon stores the Jackals had created. After a short break, they continued on, standing in front of the Unification statue in only three more hours.

“So,” Sam said, awed. “I don’t remember the story of this. Tell me?”

“Long story short, the Desert Rangers protected the Mojave before NCR showed it’s face,” Darren explained. “But they knew they didn’t have the numbers to take down anyone big-time, like the Legion. They agreed to be folded into the NCR provided they take over protection of the Mojave. This statue is to commemorate the agreement.”

Sam nodded, and continued toward the Outpost itself. It was a small, gated area for how important it apparently was. Nostalgia hit Sam again, like she’d been through here too many times to count. A few caravan hands recognized Darren, and he smiled and waved.

“Where can we find Major Knight?” he asked one.

“Up in the second building! First one’s barracks!” the other man replied. Darren gave him a nod of thanks before they meandered up to the door.

“Are you Major Knight?” Sam asked the man at the desk.

“Yes, I am. Caravan, citizen, pilgrim, or…?” Knight asked. Sam’s brows furrowed.

“Uh, courier. And I guess caravan guard?” The question was obvious in her voice.

“Just need something for the logbook, keeping tabs on traffic through the Outpost,” Knight explained. “Although, mostly just in, not out these days. If you’re looking for the commanding officer, he’s in back. Although…he’s got a lot on his plate, so if you speak to him…keep it short. Also, if you need any gear checked, we can get you up and running again, once you fill out the work orders and sign for the parts, of course.”

“Actually, Major, we were looking for you,” Sam smiled. Silver-tongued she was not, but a little kindness and respect always went a long way. “I’d like to talk to you about Primm.”

Knight looked surprised, “Primm? Hayes’ unit is stationed up there, were having problems with some of the NCRCF convicts. What can I help you with?”

“Hayes is undermanned and is requesting some additional support,” Sam explained. “The town has no law enforcement, and is currently forced to hide out in the casino in order to avoid the convicts roaming the area.”

Knight frowned, troubled, “I’d like to help, but…we can’t spare any more units. We have to maintain a minimum headcount at the Outpost. Orders from out West.”

Sam thought about how best to move forward. She really, _really_ , did not want to see a convict or a robot in charge of law and order in Primm, and Knight didn’t seem particularly firm on the “no help” thing. Maybe if she pressed a little more…

“Having Primm – and the trade route – under NCR control would really help the West,” Sam reasoned. “Not to mention keeping it out of Caesar’s hands.”

Knight nodded, “I see the wisdom in that. I’ll radio for a unit to head up to Primm and offer some additional support. They won’t be ready until tomorrow, though. You can either head back to Primm and deliver the good news, or stay around here to travel with them. I know which I’d recommend.”

“I think we’ll follow your advice,” Sam grinned. “Is there anything we can do to help around here while we wait?”

It was only late afternoon – plenty of time to earn some caps or supplies for the road, Sam reasoned. Knight looked surprised. Really, he should work on a better poker face.

“Help?” He asked. “Oh…well, you could speak to Ranger Jackson. He might have something for you. He sort of runs things around here, mostly ends up sending reports back West that aren’t filled with the best news.”

He pointed them down the hall to a small office. A man with a ranger hat and long mustache sat in a chair behind a desk.

“Looks like we got new visitors in the ol’ Brahmin pen,” Jackson said, studying the two newcomers in front of him. “Not many people coming here in a hurry, only passing through. And if you’re passing through, you picked a bad time. Road north has gone to hell, and if I let a caravan through, they won’t make it.”

“Any way we can help?” Darren asked. He knew how important it was to get the caravans moving again, and if he were stuck here, he’d be a might bit pissed.

“Help? No. Look I app—” Jackson cut off. “You know what? Yes, I could use the help. And you two look like you can handle yourselves. I need to get the caravans moving again, and that means clearing a path north. There’s too much crawling the asphalt up the road to allow it. You manage to get it cleared out, I might lose a requisition or two.”

Sam nodded. Good enough for her. She’d do it on principle and boredom, truthfully. She looked to her younger brother, who nodded the same.

“We’ll be back,” she announced, turning to leave.

When they stepped out into the sunlight again, she turned to Darren.

“Wait…crawling the asphalt? Does that mean…bugs?” she asked with a shudder. Darren grinned.

“So, you didn’t forget that!” he crowed. “Yeah, you’ve been terrified of bugs ever since I can remember. And yeah, he probably meant giant ants. They’re a nuisance around here. Aim for the antennas. They’ll frenzy, attack each other, and we’ll sit back and watch. Once they all kill each other, we kill the victor. Good plan?”

“Jackson better make this worth our while,” Sam growled through gritted teeth. She couldn’t remember why she was so afraid of bugs, but she didn’t need to. Darren clapped her shoulder.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth our while just to get the caravans moving again. You have no idea how important this is, especially to me. Caravans not being able to move means a lack of goods here and out West. Lack of goods means higher prices. Higher prices means we can’t buy jack shit. Not to mention it puts me outta caravan work since they won’t need repairs or a guard if they’re not moving,” Darren explained. Sam nodded and sighed.

“Let’s go stomp some bugs, yeah?”

A few hours later, the pair returned from Ivanpah Dry Lake, thoroughly coated in dust. Darren was cackling.

“I haven’t heard you scream like a little girl in years!” he cried. “Over a fuckin’ ant, oh my god.”

Sam glared at him, but struggled to keep the scowl on her face. She really didn’t remember much of him yet, but seeing him so amused warmed her heart. Even if it was at her expense. The siblings returned to Jackson for their reward, which consisted of a few lunches for the road and some weaponry.

“If you’re not gonna use this,” Darren started. Sam cocked her head to the side with raised eyebrows. “I can break it down for parts. Some of it might be useful.”

“I’m not gonna use it,” Sam shrugged. “I’ve got all I need already. Let’s bed down for the night. We’ll rendezvous with the soldiers in the morning and head back to Primm.”

Heading back to Primm was an experience. Sam chatted nearly the whole way with one of the soldiers, a ranger named Annette. Darren listened to them drone on for hours, musing on how easily his sister made friends and allies in the Mojave, and the other areas of what used to be America.

_“I met this really, really cool dude in the Capital,” Sam raved. She was fifteen, and had returned the previous night from her first trip to the Capital Wasteland. “His name’s Three Dog, he’s the DJ for Galaxy News Radio. He’s the one I delivered to, actually. Super cool guy. Really chill. He let me stay at the GNR Plaza and help him record some of the news for the station. My voice! Broadcast! On the radio! He told me I reminded him of someone he used to know, this Lone Wanderer lady. He didn’t tell me her name, just called her the Lone Wanderer and the kid from Vault 101. Said her and her dad died getting Project Purity up and running. When I left, he told me to keep fighting the Good Fight, and to come visit my friend Three Dog whenever I wanted to.”_

Before Darren really knew it, they were back in Primm. He and Sam headed back into Lieutenant Hayes’ tent.

“We got extra troop support for Primm!” Sam announced cheerfully. The lieutenant smiled.

“Yes, I just got word of that. Heard there’s a squad of rangers standing by. Sergeant McGhee will take over as sheriff and the rangers will be his deputies. This town will be an NCR territory,” Lieutenant Hayes smiled at the duo in front of him. “That means aside from protection, the citizens will also need to become registered NCR citizens and pay any appropriate and associated taxes.”

“They ain’t gonna like that bit,” Sam declared. “But hell, it’s worth it for the protection.”

With that, she thanked the Lieutenant and turned to leave, Darren right behind her. Primm was saved, law and order was restored, she had some of her identity back, and her brother had her six. After delivering the news to the people of Primm, Johnson and Ruby Nash moved back to their home at the Mojave Express, inviting the siblings to a dinner of radscorpion venom casserole. Darren was wary, but Sam was just excited for some home cooking.

“Hey, what’s that?” Sam asked as they walked in. She’d meant to ask earlier, but forgot about the heap of robot laying on the counter in the rigamarole of rescuing Beagle and restoring law and order to the town.

“That beat up old thing?” Johnson asked. “What do you wanna know?”

“Where’d it come from?” Sam asked curiously.

“Courier dropped it off a couple months back. I got it working for a little while, but the darn thing pooped out,” Nash explained. “I haven’t been able to get it up and running again. I was hoping to use it for some courier work, but that ain’t gonna happen.”

Sam turned to Darren, eyes pleading.

“Can you try to fix it?” she asked. Darren frowned, looking over it.

“I can try,” he said slowly. “No guarantees.”

He began tinkering with it while Sam went to help Ruby with the casserole. Sam was a sucker for a new recipe, even if she really couldn’t cook for shit. He tinkered through dinner, and worked into the night until it hovered up and started beeping.

“Ah-ha!” he shouted. “Sam!”

His sister sat bolt upright from her bedroll in the corner. She rubbed her eyes as the robot flew toward her.

“Huh, guess it’s working,” Sam said tiredly. “Alright, I’m going back to sleep. We set out for Novac bright and early.”

She promptly laid back down and went right back to sleep. Darren envied her ability to drop back to sleep in the blink of an eye. He set up his bedroll in the other corner and fell asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3: Blue Moon will feature everyone's favorite sniper, and our favorite ghoul cult. Stay tuned!


	3. Blue Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Novac may be a hole in the wall kinda town, Sam thought, but it held secrets and a new ally she'd never expect. Adding another friend to their revenge party was going to make everything even more fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome back to another installment of Return to Sender! As a reminder, I own nothing.
> 
> Also, as a side note, this fic will not invest in the "one human, one animal/robot companion at a time" rule. If we want there to be a little Wasteland justice party running around, there will be.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Blue Moon_

_You saw me standin’ alone_

_Without a dream in my heart_

_Without a love of my own_

-Blue Moon, Frank Sinatra

“I wanna skip Nipton,” Sam declared out of nowhere. They’d only been walking for a few hours, and were nowhere near Nipton yet. Darren cocked an eyebrow.

“Can I ask why?” Darren replied. They were still ages away, why did she want to skip it? Besides, wouldn’t it take them out of their way?

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Sam mumbled. Looking up, she pointed. “Besides, look at that. All that smoke? Ranger Ghost over at the Outpost says it’s coming from Nipton. Something hit there, something big. I told her we’d check it out, but I’m not dealing with it right now. Not until we’ve got some information on Mr. Checkered Suit.”

“Wait, when did you talk to Ranger Ghost?” Darren asked, perplexed. He turned his face to the sky, and had to admit, the large plume of black smoke made him queasy too.

“You were asleep. I couldn’t, so I wandered around. Got bored and decided a little stargazing was in order,” Sam explained. “She was up on the roof. Said she wanted eyes. She’s not sure what’s going on, and truthfully, I don’t think I wanna find out. Not when we’re two to however many there might be.”

The robot beside her beeped.

“I meant three!” Sam exclaimed. Darren rolled his eyes. The bot seemed to have taken a liking to her immediately despite the fact that he’s the one who fixed it up.

“Hey,” Sam said holding out her arm to stop Darren. He looked to her confused.

“Pip-Boy says that’s the Nipton Pit-Stop,” Sam said. Darren gestured for her to go on. “There’s a fire on – there’s someone there. Not sure if their friendly or not, but knowing my luck, they’re not. Get ready for a fight.”

Nodding, he grabbed his trusty shotgun.

“We’re in Jackal territory,” he said. “Wouldn’t surprise me if that’s where they’ve set up camp.”

Walking closer proved them right, and Ed-E, their new pet robot, threw itself into the melee, blasting the raiders back to whence they came. Sam only had to fire off two shots from her 10mm, which was lucky, thanks to the lack of ammo. Darren nodded, impressed.

“Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.”

“It’s getting late,” Sam said as she kneeled down to loot the bodies. “We should probably try to eat and snooze while we can.”

Darren acquiesced and built the fire higher while Sam pulled some provisions out of her pack.

“Looks like it’s a Pork n’ Beans night!” Sam crowed, pulling out a can for each. Darren groaned as she began heating them over the fire. Ed-E hovered nearby, seeming to keep watch. Together, they ate and set up their bedrolls.

“I’ll take first watch,” Sam said. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours.” Darren nodded and laid down.

True to her word, Sam shook him awake several hours later. Secretly, she took the longer watch, sitting with Ed-E and listening to Mr. New Vegas on her Pip-Boy. It said 2 AM before she woke her brother.

“’m up,” he groaned tiredly. “I’m up.”

“I’d certainly hope so!” Sam teased. “I’d like to go to sleep too!”

She flopped down belly-first onto her bedroll and was asleep in minutes. Darren rubbed his eyes and took her vacated place. Ed-E beeped at him curiously.

“Yeah, good morning to you too, pal,” he said, studying the darkened horizon. He doubted they’d catch up to the asshole who shot his sister in Novac. Hell, they probably wouldn’t catch up with him until they reached the Strip, if that’s really where he was going. Maybe he’d get eaten by some radscorpions along the way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Darren fantasized about all the ways that idiot could die before reaching the Strip until the sun rose, and shook his sister awake for some breakfast. They each ate a prickly pear fruit before packing their things and setting off again.

They dipped south to avoid Nipton in its entirety, black smoke still rising ominously to the heavens. Sam’s face was solemn as they passed, knowing something – maybe Powder Gangers? – had gotten to the town. She didn’t really remember Nipton, but knew she had to have delivered there before. She’d been all over the Mojave, Darren had told her. Hell, all over America, for that matter.

They headed north again toward what the Pip-Boy declared to be Wolfhorn Ranch. It loomed in the distance, a small shack with a windmill behind it. Cautiously, they explored it, finding it to be abandoned.

“Someone was here not too long ago, though,” Sam said, shifting through someone’s former belongings. She pulled out a cleaver and raised both eyebrows. Ed-E hovered above her shoulder.

They settled in for the night, thankful for the protection from the elements, and began the same routine as the night before. Sam sat in a chair facing the door, Lights Out across her lap. Darren laid on the bed in the far corner of the room. Diligently, Ed-E hovered at her side.

“Ed-E?” Sam asked the bot. It beeped softly in return. “Do you think I’ll ever remember everything?”

Quietly, her bot beeped back to her.

“I don’t know either…” Sam said quietly. “I don’t know either.”

Morning came far too soon, and the trio set out once again, north this time. Vipers ambushed them this time, coming from above with a grenade launcher.

“Shit shit shit!” Sam shouted. Ed-E immediately went into combat mode, flying at the attacker with absolutely no regard for its own life. Sam dropped to a knee to aim the sniper rifle, hoping to take out the jackass with the grenade launcher while Darren focused his attention on the other two.

In the end, they made it out with minor injuries considering how off guard they’d been taken. Sam’s left arm had been grazed by a stray bullet, and Darren had been shot in the torso, though his leather armor had prevented it getting any further. Still it left one hell of a bruise.

“Hold still,” Sam muttered, injecting him with half of a stimpak, reserving the other half for herself. Darren winced as she stabbed him. He held his hand out for the stimpak, and did the same for her.

“You always were good at poking people,” Darren said off-handedly. Sam’s brows furrowed, asking for an explanation.

“You don’t remember do you?” Darren asked. “Well, never mind. I’ll tell you. You always fixed up anyone and anything that needed your help. When we were little you tried to keep an injured nightstalker for a pet. But you always fixed people up right as rain. Or at least as well as ya could. Some things just can’t be fixed. You’d always use healing powder for the mild stuff – always had that on hand. Can’t tell ya how many times you had to hold me down to rub that stuff in. Burns like fuck.”

Sam grinned. She could remember, vaguely now, chasing down a much smaller boy and tackling him into the dirt – often creating more scrapes to take care of – just to put some healing powder on the existing cut.

“It’s not that bad, you big baby,” Sam teased, grinning. Darren huffed and threw his hands in the air.

“Doesn’t hurt, my ass!” he exclaimed. Sam just laughed. They walked together past Ranger Station Charlie, and Darren started to walk toward it.

“Don’t!” Sam suddenly shouted. Darren turned around, confused.

“Look, I’ve just got a bad feeling about that. Why don’t we just head into Novac? It’s just another hour or so’s walk,” Sam cajoled. “I’ll even pay for a hotel room – you said they’ve got a hotel, right? Just please don’t go in there. I know we’re on good terms with NCR but don’t.”

Darren’s brows furrowed in confusion, but did as his sister asked. She’d always had some kind of freaky sixth sense. It’s what made her an excellent sniper. Together, they continued on to Novac.

“That’s an enormous fuckin’ dinosaur,” Sam breathed. Darren snorted. He then watched as her already pale face drained of color on seeing a Securitron at the gate, almost as if it was waiting for someone.

“Hello Victor!” Sam greeted, but her tone was faux-pleasant to Darren’s ears.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, if it ain’t my old friend from Goodsprings!” the robot exclaimed cheerfully. Darren was lost.

“It’s nice to see a friendly face out here,” Sam replied with a wide smile. Jesus, she was _not_ a good actor. At least not to someone who had known her for 21 years.

“Likewise, friend, likewise!” the robot said. “Is there anything old Vic can do you for?”

“So, what’s the story with this place?” Sam asked curiously. The robot lifted his arms as if shrugging.

“Novac?” it asked. “Nice enough place I suppose…but between you and me – when I rolled into town, my skin started to itch. Watch yourself.”

“Thanks for the warning, Victor!” Sam replied conspiratorially. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check into the hotel and snag a room. Sure would be nice to sleep in a bed for a change.”

“I can imagine! I’ve gotta get goin’ myself,” the robot said ruefully. “Got a notion I need to head to New Vegas. Guess I’ll see when I get there!”

Sam’s face was tight as the Securitron rolled off, cheerful cowboy face grinning all the way.

“What was that?” Darren asked as she grabbed his arm and dragged him off toward the motel.

“Later!” Sam hissed as they reached the door to the Dino Dee-lite Motel. She released his arm and grabbed the door handle.

A spindly woman with thick glasses sat at the desk in front of them. Her graying blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, and her glasses dominated her eagle-sharp face. She smiled up at the siblings from her perch.

“Hello!” She greeted cheerfully. Sam resisted the urge to wince. “I’m Jeannie May. Jeannie May Crawford. I take care of folks here at the motel. Long as they ain’t trouble-makers.”

Sam immediately decided schmoozing Ms. Jeannie May would be her best course of action.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jeannie May,” Sam started. “I’m Sam, and this is my brother Darren. You wouldn’t happen to be able to help us with a room, would you?”

Jeannie May fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Darren rolled his eyes – Sam was laying it on thick and they both knew it.

“Well I think that’s a fine idea,” Jeannie May grinned. “I’ll give you a good, flat rate, and you can stay long as you like. Least till busy season comes. 100 caps. Sound good?”

“Yes ma’am!” Sam replied, smiling as she forked over the caps. It hurt to pay that much, but comfort was worth it in the end. “Can you tell me what’s of interest around this fine town?”

Jeannie May visibly brightened at the ‘fine town’ bit.

“Well, there’s Dinky, the town mascot,” Jeannie May explained, “He’s a sight. You probably already saw him when you came in, but you can go up inside, too. Up the road, a ways to the west, there’s REPCONN. That’s the old rocket facility. There’s been some sinister characters out there lately, so you may want to stay clear. Other than that, nothing to do but take it easy and enjoy good company!”

“Ms. Jeannie May, could you tell me if you’ve seen a gentleman in a checkered suit pass through recently? I’m sure a lovely lady like you knows everything there is to know about this town,” Sam asked, flattery oozing from every pore.

“He might’ve been wearing a fancy outfit, but he wasn’t any kind of gentleman to me,” Jeannie May explained, staring down her beak-like nose. “Had his nose stuck so high in the air, you couldn’t see it above the clouds. City folk, they always think they deserve better than what they got. Those hoodlums seemed to know Manny for some reason. He’s our daytime sniper, up in the dinosaur’s mouth.”

“Daytime sniper?” Sam asked, now genuinely intrigued.

“Oh yes, young lady! We’ve got two gentleman snipers keeping their eyes on the road. Have to keep out the slaver riff-raff, you know!” Jeannie May simpered as she snagged a key from her wall. “Here’s your key. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay better.”

“Oh, yes ma’am, thank you ma’am!” Sam grinned. She walked to the door, Ed-E following like a faithful hound dog. Darren smiled and nodded to the woman at the desk and followed his sister up the stairs and to their new room, thankfully with two beds.

“Gentleman snipers, huh?” Sam breathed, awed. Darren rolled his eyes.

“Keep it in your pants!” he groused. Sam shot him a grin. “Now tell me what the fuck’s with that robot.”

Ed-E made a curious beeping noise. Darren threw his arms in the air.

“Not you!” he shouted. Sam laughed.

“That robot was Victor. Dug me outta my grave in Goodsprings.” Sam explained. “There’s just something about it though…I don’t like it. Makes my skin crawl.”

“Like that Jeannie May lady?” Darren asked humorously. Sam shuddered.

“I’m pretty sure that bitch eats newborn babies.” She replied. Darren laughed as he flopped down on the bed.

“Well, she said this Manny guy was the daytime sniper, and it’s almost 10, so we’ll have to wait till tomorrow to grill him. I’m hittin’ the hay. What about you?” Darren asked.

“I’m gonna freshen up a bit and do the same,” Sam responded over her shoulder, making a beeline for the bathroom.

Three hours later, Darren was snoring in the bed furthest from the door, but Sam’s mind was still racing. She often either couldn’t sleep for the life of her, nearly constantly on high alert as a courier, or could fall asleep in milliseconds. There was no in between, and a gunshot wound to the head hadn’t helped matters. Looking over to Darren, she motioned Ed-E closer to her.

“Keep an eye on him,” she whispered. “I’m going for a walk.”

The bot gave a soft affirmative beep, and Sam wrapped the holster with Peacemaker around her waist. She quietly opened the door and crept out into the fresh evening air, heading straight for the giant dinosaur. She half expected to find the door locked, but instead found it open and waiting.

 _That’s a bad business idea_ , Sam thought to herself as she checked out the store. The number of plastic dinosaurs was a bit disturbing. It felt like their eyes followed her. She turned her attention to the stairs leading to Dinky’s mouth, and made her way up. When she opened the door, she was greeted by the barrel of a sniper rifle. Her hands automatically went up, showing she had no weapon in her hands and meant no harm.

“Goddamn it!” The young man in front of her cursed. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. What do you want?”

“Expecting visitors?” Sam asked cheekily. The man frowned and his eyebrows creased in irritation.

“Yeah, I guess maybe I am,” he said slowly. “But not like you. Huh. Maybe it should’ve been you I was expecting all along. Why are you here?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. He was around six feet tall, if she had to guess. His hair was close-shaved under the red beret he wore, and wore sunglasses even at night. Honestly, if that was a pickup line, she was gonna take it and run with it.

“If you’re looking for someone in particular,” Sam said, testing the waters. “I could tip you off if I see them.”

“Yeah, well,” the man started. “You see anybody wearing Legion crimson or a lot of sports equipment, you just let me know. You still haven’t answered my question.”

Oh. _Oh_. So it wasn’t like that. Damn. What a crying shame.

“Just looking around,” Sam responded cheerfully.

“There’s nothin’ up here.” He replied flatly.

“There’s a sniper!” Sam grinned. At this point, he looked like he was contemplating which would be better – shooting her, or throwing her out of the dinosaur’s mouth.

“I think you’d better leave,” he declared evenly.

“Just making friendly conversation,” Sam drawled with a smile.

“I don’t have friends here,” he replied with finality. He started to look like chucking her out of the dinosaur’s mouth was going to be the most fun option.

“Well, I’m not from here,” Sam countered. Honestly, messing with him was worth it.

“No,” he said slowly. “No, you’re not. Maybe you shouldn’t go. Not yet.”

Sam was grinning now.

“Why’s that, hot stuff?” she asked. The sniper blinked.

“I need someone I can trust,” he explained. “You’re a stranger. That’s a start.”

“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked curiously.

“I want you to find something for me,” the sniper explained. “I don’t know if there’s anything _to_ find, but I need someone to try. My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don’t know who. Bring him out in front of the nest here while I’m on duty. I’ll give you my NCR beret to put on. It’ll be our signal, so I know you’re standing with him. And I’ll take care of the rest. I need to do this myself.”

“You’re trying to track down your wife?” Sam choked out. Talk about taking the wind out of her sails.

“My wife is dead,” the sniper declared icily. “I want the sonofabitch who sold her.

 _Oh great_ , Sam thought to herself. _I’m flirting with the dude who lost his wife to the Legion. God forgive me._

The sniper’s hand extended toward her, holding a folded NCR beret. She nodded and took it, slipping it into her breast pocket.

“I’ll figure it out,” Sam said firmly. “I’ll be back with proof. As soon as I can.”

With that, she turned on heel and marched out of the dinosaur. She knew just where to start.

The human slimeball that was Jeannie May Crawford had a safe tucked into the floor of the Dino Dee-lite Motel. Sam might not really remember most of it, but she knew she had met too many people like her before, and knew she had to have a diary of some sort. A dossier on comings and goings. If it wasn’t in her safe, it was at her home. She had time to check the safe tonight, and if push came to shove, she’d search her house tomorrow while she worked the desk.

She crept behind the desk, and pulled a bobby pin from her hair. Quietly, she set to work. She had a doctor’s steady hands, and it only took half an hour to pop the lock on the safe. She sifted through the contents, ignoring the money for the time being, and pulling out a slip of paper.

 _Bill of Sale_ , Sam skimmed. _Consul Officiorum…purchased from Jeannie May Crawford…rights to ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone…and those of her unborn child…_

Unborn child!?

Sam’s eyes bugged out. Unborn child? Jeannie May had sold a pregnant woman as a _slave_ to the _Legion_? Did her husband know she was pregnant? Oh God. Not good, not good, _not good_.

Well. This bitch certainly deserved the punishment the sniper was going to dish out. She looked at the time on her Pip-Boy. 4 AM. The night-time sniper would still be on duty. Perfect. She carefully folded up the bill of sale and put it in her pocket before looting the safe. Hell, Jeannie May wouldn’t even know it was missing.

She wandered down to the “residential” portion of Novac, quickly finding the mailbox marked Crawford. She knocked on the door until a sleepy-looking Jeannie May answered.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Jeannie May asked tiredly. “Awful late to be dropping in unexpected.”

Sam mustered up every bit of acting she had in her.

“You’ve gotta see something! It’s an emergency! In front of the dinosaur!” Sam exclaimed. Jeannie May perked up.

“Then let’s go, sweetheart!” Jeannie May cried, hustling toward the dinosaur. Sam trailed behind, fitting the red NCR beret over her copper hair.

Jeannie May had just reached the dinosaur and turned to ask Sam what the problem was when her head exploded. Sam grinned triumphantly, thankfully having been far away enough to avoid the spray.

“I know I told my brother you eat babies, but I was wrong,” Sam said matter-of-factly to the headless corpse. “You just sell them instead.”

With this, she bounded back into the dinosaur and up the stairs to find the sniper waiting.

“How did you know?” he asked thickly. Wordlessly, she handed him the folded bill of sale.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he muttered. “It’d be like them to keep paperwork.”

He shoved a small purse of caps toward her, along with a different red beret. He plucked his off her head.

“Here. This is all I can give,” he explained. “I think our dealings are done now.”

Sam tried to hand the caps to him, but he wouldn’t take it. He eyed her curiously behind dark shades as she tried to simultaneously put the beret on and shove the caps back at him. She was failing spectacularly.

“What are you gonna do now?” she asked, concerned. He couldn’t stay in Novac, that was as sure as hell. The sniper frowned and shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll wander like you,” he replied easily. A lightbulb went off above Sam’s head.

“You should come with us!” she exclaimed.

“Us?” the sniper asked.

“Yeah!” Sam said. “Me, my younger brother, and our pet robot. They’re asleep in our room right now. Well…my brother was asleep. Dunno about the bot. His name’s Ed-E.”

If Sam could see his eyes, she would’ve noticed the miniscule twitch.

“I’m good, thanks.” He replied evenly. Sam frowned thoughtfully.

“I thought snipers worked in teams?” She questioned. The sniper in question’s face took on a thoughtful quality.

“Hm. Yeah. Working on your own, you’re a lot less effective. I’ve been there and paid for it,” he said slowly. “You trained as a sniper?”

“Well…” Sam started. “Not so much trained as…self-trained? But I’m still a crack shot. Listen, me and my brother need to talk to this…Manny fella tomorrow. Or I guess today. So if you wanna catch some shut-eye, we can come get you before we leave town.”

The sniper made a face at Manny’s name.

“Hell do you want with Vargas?” he asked. Sam’s face drained of emotion.

“He has information,” she said coldly. “Information I need. It’s why we’re out here wandering.”

The topic seemed to anger the young woman, and the sniper was wise enough to let sleeping dogs lie. Instead, he noted the dark circles around her eyes and bid her goodnight.

“Oh,” she said softly as she turned to leave. “What’s your name? I never asked.”

“Boone,” he responded gruffly. Sam smiled tiredly. The sun was already starting its steady ascent, and Darren would be up and ready to go soon.

“Well, Boone, I’m Sam. My brother is Darren. And I already told you about our bot. Nice to meet you.”

“This isn’t gonna end well,” Boone cautioned. Sam snorted.

“Pal, I’m pretty sure it can’t get too much worse,” she laughed as she walked down the steps, and returned to the hotel room. Darren hadn’t even moved, but Ed-E greeted her with a soft beep.

“Hi, love,” Sam greeted the bot. “Guess what? I made a friend. He’s gonna come with us. His name’s Boone. You’ll meet him later.”

With this, she laid down, tucked the new beret into her pocket, and caught a few hours of sleep before being shaken awake by Darren.

“What?” she groaned.

“It’s nine,” Darren explained. “Daytime sniper should be on duty. Let’s go meet this Manny guy.”

Sam sat up, rubbing her eyes as Darren handed her a box of Sugar Bombs. She ate a handful before passing the box back to her brother. As he ate, she changed clothes and threw her armor on. She decided against taking her pack, but strapped Peacemaker to its place against her hip. Darren opted for the same, with his hunting shotgun slung over his back. Sam tied her hair up in her typical messy bun and threw Darren an elastic to pull his hair out of his face if he wanted. Together, they locked up the motel room and started toward the dinosaur, Ed-E in tow. Darren’s face grew concerned at the dried blood on the dirt.

“Uh…what’s that?” he asked. Sam laughed.

“That would be what’s left of Jeannie May,” she explained. Darren turned to her wide-eyed.

“Look, I know you didn’t like her, but did you _kill_ her?” he asked in a harsh whisper. Sam laughed again.

“No, I didn’t kill her,” she explained. “Long story. Tell you later. Let’s talk to Manny first.”

The human duo waved to Cliff Briscoe as they mounted the stairs to the sniper’s nest. Manny turned to face them much the same Boone did to Sam the previous night.

“What’s goin’ on, man?” he asked the siblings. Sam looked to Darren, who nodded.

“We’re looking for a man in a checkered coat,” Sam explained. “Heard you might have some information we need.”

“Sure, I know him,” Manny arched an eyebrow. “What do you want with him?”

Sam snorted.

“I have a score to settle,” she replied darkly. Ed-E beeped in alarm.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Guy seemed like he’d do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Probably makes a lot of enemies,” Manny mused. “Well, listen, I can definitely help you find him, but I’ve got problems of my own. Maybe we can do a trade. You need my help. There’s something I need, too.”

 _Look, pal, we’ve all got fuckin’ problems!_ Sam wanted to shout. She gritted her teeth against the tide of anger pooling in her stomach.

“What do you need?” she gritted out. Darren could tell she was pissed to hell, but she should’ve expected the information wasn’t free. Nothing was free in the wasteland, except death.

“Novac, it’s home to me now,” Manny explained, seeming to not notice the woman seething in front of him. “I want that to be for good. I like it here, and I’ve left too many homes behind. But the only resource we got here is junk. Without that, people wouldn’t have anything to trade. They’d all have to leave. We get most of it up the road from the old rocket test site. But a buncha ghouls showed up one day and took it over. We can’t get in there now.”

“We’ll see what we can do about it,” Darren spoke up, the voice of reason to his sister’s temper as per usual. Ed-E beeped in agreement. Sam nodded, shoulders slumped.

“It’d mean a lot!” Manny called to them as they headed back down to the Gift Shop. Sam forked over most of her caps for ammo for her sniper rifle and his hunting shotgun. She blessed the Gun Runners – Darren had told her due to recent events, Gun Runners were ramping up their supply across the wasteland. Several more caps went toward food to last them the rest of the week. By the time all was said and done, she only had what Boone had given her the night before. Darren reassured her that he’d saved up from his most recent caravan runs.

As they walked back to the hotel, he once again turned to face the rusty stain in front of the dinosaur. Sam walked ahead without him, whistling. When they got back to the room, he shouldered his pack and made for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. Darren turned, giving her an eyeroll.

“We’re setting out for REPCONN?” he responded with an air of _did the bullet scramble your brains more than I thought?_

“We’re waiting until tonight to go,” Sam said with finality. She flopped back onto her bed after pulling her armor off. Darren stared at her incredulously.

“Why!?” he nearly shouted. “Oh god…is this about what you did to Jeannie May?”

“For the last time,” Sam said with an eyeroll. “I didn’t kill Jeannie May! I may have…helped…but I didn’t do anything!”

Darren blinked.

“Why did you help!?”

“Sit down,” Sam said dismissively. “You’ll agree with me in the end, but it’s a long story.”

Darren sat down in the chair opposite her bed and motioned to her to begin. Ed-E hovered between the siblings.

“Look…since… _that_ ,” Sam began. “I’ve had trouble sleeping. I couldn’t sleep last night, but you were out cold, so I decided to go meet the nighttime gentleman sniper.”

Darren looked poised to cut her off with frustration, but Sam beat him to the punch.

“Now you shut up and let me tell the story!” she exclaimed. Darren blinked in surprise, but motioned to her to continue. “I won’t try to pretend, I was flirting with him – he’s _hot_ , damnit! But then he asked me to lend him a hand. I thought he meant that…yanno, in _that_ way…but he didn’t. He wanted help figuring out who had his wife kidnapped by the Legion.”

Darren gaped.

“I decided to crack Jeannie May’s safe first,” Sam explained. “I figured she’d have a diary of comings and goings involving Novac. She seemed nosy that way, and I’m not talking about the beak God saw fit to plant on her face. I found something even better. Or, well, worse. It was the bill of sale where she sold the wife and, get this, her unborn child. She sold a momma and a baby to the _Legion_ as _slaves_.”

Sam had shouted this last bit, waving her arms for emphasis.

“The sniper, Boone, had given me his beret, and told me to put it on and bring the person in front of the dinosaur when I figured it out. I knew he meant to kill whoever did it, and I was just fine with that. Man deserved revenge – that cunt sold his wife and baby,” Sam justified. “So I went to Jeannie May’s house, told her there was an emergency by the dinosaur, put the beret on, and led her out in front. He blew her head right off. Serves the conniving bitch right. Not like there’s law out here like Primm. ‘Sides, they woulda done the same to her.”

Darren nodded slowly. He was in shock, honestly, that the woman who’d greeted them on arrival to town was a slaver. Legion was bad news, even if NCR wasn’t particularly sparkling either – at least they didn’t enslave women or commit unspeakable atrocities for fun.

“When I went back up to the sniper’s nest, he gave me caps and a beret of my own,” Sam gestured to the beret in her hand. “He can’t stay here, not with the ghost of his wife, so I told him he should come with us.”

Darren gaped.

“No…input from me then, sis?” he asked incredulously. Sam grinned.

“Absolutely not, brother-mine,” Sam declared, grin widening. “He’s my buddy. When you find someone you wanna bring along, you’ve got a free pass!”

Darren sighed and rolled his eyes. His sister had always taken in strays, including human ones on occasion, but bringing not one but two strays on their revenge mission? He’d just be another mouth to feed and gun to supply, and Darren voiced such.

“Yup,” Sam agreed. “But he’ll also be another gun to have our backs. He was an NCR sniper. He’s probably better trained than both of us put together.”

Darren had to admit that was a good point. Sam rolled over, told her brother she was taking a nap, and promptly fell asleep.

“Guess those sleeping problems are just at night?” he asked Ed-E, who beeped in return.

“You know, beeping really isn’t helpful,” he muttered.

As the sun began to set, Darren roused his sister. The two shared dinner before packing up their gear and locking up the hotel room. Sam headed toward where this “Boone” should be, and hammered on his door. She was worried he’d already left town rather than come with them, but the door swung open to reveal the sniper shouldering a pack.

“Hi Boone!” Sam greeted cheerfully. “You ready to head out? We’re running down to REPCONN to deal with the ghoul problem, because Darren made the point that Manny can’t give me the information I need if I shoot him!”

The sniper cocked an eyebrow and Darren snorted.

“Yeah, she’s always like that,” he explained, holding out a hand. “I’m Darren, that one’s brother. You get used to her running her mouth, don’t worry. This bot’s Ed-E.”

Boone shook the outstretched hand silently. He took a moment to survey the duo…well, trio, if he included the hovering robot. The family resemblance between them was slight, but he could tell they were related. Sam was shorter and more compact, with a calculating gleam in her green eyes Boone wasn’t sure he liked yet. Her brunette brother was closer to his own 6’ tall, with a more open face. He’d guess late teens, early twenties for the boy, and early twenties for the girl, even though her copper hair was going gray at the roots and temples. The boy was a bit tanned, indicating he’d been in the sun for some kind of work, while his sister was as pale as fresh-fallen nuclear snow. Despite this, her skin was weathered, indicating she worked outdoors, primarily. He was thankful the NCR had taught him to infer and read his enemies and allies. He wasn’t sure if traveling with the siblings was a bright idea yet, but hell, he had nothing to lose. If nothing else, they’d put him out of his misery.

“Let’s go,” he said, emotionlessly. Darren raised an eyebrow at Sam. She shrugged, and led the way out of Novac toward REPCONN.

They stumbled across dead ghouls on the walk there, most notably a Glowing One. Sam’s Pip-Boy crackled to life in protest of the radiation surrounding it.

“I forgot those things had Geiger counters in ‘em,” Darren remarked. Boone hummed and continued walking. Darren pulled his sister’s arm.

“Why did we decide to bring him with us!?” he hissed in her ear. “He’s emotionally stunted, look at him!”

Sam rolled her eyes and smacked her brother upside the head before running ahead to catch up with their newest addition. For the rest of the walk, she tried to draw him into conversation, but was given grunts and hums in return.

“She’s an idiot,” he told Ed-E. Ed-E beeped loudly.

“Can’t tell if you agree or if that was anger,” Darren mumbled.

Sam had started to get ahead of Boone as they walked around the curve in the road, when he grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her back. She gracelessly stumbled back toward him, where he caught her.

“See ‘em?” he hissed. She craned her neck, trying to make out what he’d seen.

There!

The pink, wrinkled flesh was undeniable, as was the smell. Ghouls. And not the friendly kind, either.

“Ferals,” she whispered in return. He nodded. They each climbed the rocks nearby, finding an area flat enough to set up. They reached for their sniper rifles in sync. Sam took the left side of the building in her scope, while Boone took the right. Darren watched in awe as they cleared the ghouls in the courtyard.

“Damn,” he muttered. Ed-E beeped in agreement. The two snipers stayed in position a moment longer, waiting to see if more ghouls rushed from the building’s entrance. When none came, the duo packed up their rifles and scampered back down the ledges.

As they wandered closer to the building, the ghoul stench grew stronger. Sam’s nose wrinkled as she took in the smell of rotting flesh. Darren did the same, tying a bandana over his face in an attempt to stave off disgust. Boone’s face remained impassive.

Getting inside the building was the easy bit – fighting off the ferals that rushed them inside? Not so much. There wasn’t enough distance to snipe them, so Sam, Darren, and Ed-E had to do most of the heavy lifting. The rough voice from the intercom caught everyone by surprise.

“ _Hey!”_ the voice crackled. Sam and Darren both jumped, while Boone’s head swung toward the speaker, rifle lifted. “ _Over here! Are you listening?”_

“Uh…yes?” Sam responded, shocked to hear a voice coming from the box.

“ _Go to the big room on the east side of this building and take the metal staircase all the way up,_ ” the voice instructed. “ _And hurry!_ ”

“God, is that you?” Darren muttered sarcastically. Sam pinned him with a look.

“Well, do we go or not? Could be a trap.” Sam asked.

“The mouth of the Lord hath spoken!” Darren declared, amused. Sam rolled her eyes with disgust.

“Look, I’m just more concerned with _that_ ,” Darren said, gesturing to the body on the floor. It looked like a Super Mutant but…purple?

“Nightkin,” Boone answered simply. “Kind of Super Mutant. Uses Stealth Boys.”

“Oh boy, invisible Super Mutants!” Sam cried jovially. “What will the wasteland dream up next?”

“I say we keep going,” Darren said, changing the subject. “We need to get rid of the ghouls in this dump, and who knows if there are more or not?”

Sam sighed and agreed, so the siblings looked to Boone, who shrugged. With an eyeroll, Sam mounted the steps and pushed open the door.

Killing the ferals turned out to be easier than finding the damn metal staircase – they’d gotten lost twice, finding themselves back at the entrance.

“Alright, I won’t lie, I’m curious and concerned,” Darren declared. Sam arched an eyebrow. “What’s with the ghoul monks?”

Rolling her eyes, Sam found a door they hadn’t seen before, pulling it open to find a factory floor setup and a metal staircase…along with a few more ghouls. They were far enough away that Boone picked them off before Sam or Darren had even cleared leather.

“Damn,” Sam whistled as she walked toward the staircase. Together, the human trio mounted it, Ed-E beeping cheerily all the way. When they reached the top, they came to another intercom.

“Alright, smoothskins, I’m letting you in,” the voice crackled to life again. “You better watch yourself. I’ll sure as hell be watching you.”

With this, the door swung inward to reveal a balding man in a lab coat.

“God, but are you ugly!” the man exclaimed. Sam’s head snapped up in confusion. Darren stared in shock. Boone rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Get upstairs and talk to Jason before I throw up just from looking at you!”

“Fuckin’ excuse me!?” Sam protested, infuriated. Okay, she was not the prettiest rose in the garden. And sure, her attitude pretty much matched. But someone saying they’d get sick looking at her? That was a new one.

“You’re not a ghoul!” Darren cried, pointing at him.

 _Way to state the obvious_ , Boone thought to himself.

“Your pranks won’t work on me, smoothskin,” the man said confidently. “And they won’t work on Jason either.”

"What, did you miss the lotion dispenser outside or did your head absorb it all for us?" Darren snarked.

Boone grabbed them both by the arms and started pushing them upstairs. The sooner they began, the sooner they finished.

“If he’s a ghoul, I’m a Super Mutant,” Sam muttered petulantly.

“You’re too short,” Darren retorted. She shot him a look that would put him not six feet, but sixty feet underground if it could kill, while Boone continued shoving them along. They reached the top floor and found a glowing ghoul in a tattered suit waiting for them.

“Hello, wanderers,” the ghoul greeted. Sam’s mutter of _at least this fucker’s polite_ went ignored. “Please forgive us of our humble surroundings. Our true home waits in the Far Beyond. Have you come to help us complete the Great Journey?”

Sam blinked. Darren’s eyebrows knit together. Boone kept up his poker face, but internally questioned what the fuck he was doing here, at this point. Ed-E just beeped.

“Great…Journey?” Sam asked. The ghoul nodded and explained.

“We wish to escape from the barbarity of the Wasteland, especially the violence and bigotry of its human inhabitants,” the ghoul said. Truthfully, Sam was beginning to wonder if she was still in her coma, and these were just dreams. “The creator has promised to my flock a new land: a place of safety and healing…a paradise in the Far Beyond. Preparations for the Great Journey were nearly complete when the demons appeared.”

It was Darren’s turn to look confused.

“Demons?” he asked incredulously. “Like…Biblical demons or some shit?”

“The demons appeared from nowhere…except it might be more accurate to say they never actually “appeared” at all,” the ghoul explained patiently. “The demons are invisible. Where one of them stands, the most one sees is the air shimmering, like sunlight on water…They set upon us as we were on our way to worship one morning. We had just entered the basement. My flock fought bravely, and killed a few, but at such cost. Nearly half of us died or went missing. The rest of us retreated up here. One of the demons raved at us, but they have not tried to attack us since. Still, their demonic presence brought all progress toward the Great Journey to a standstill. But now you have come! Once again, the creator has sent us humans to help us across a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Will you drive away the demons, wanderers?”

At first, Sam stood to diagnose the ghoul with a nice case of schizophrenia, but recalled the mutated purple body in the foyer. Nightkin. Stealth Boys. Demons. Ah, now it was starting to make sense.

“We’ll take care of the “demons” for you,” Sam declared. Darren frowned and nodded. It was the only way to make REPCONN safe for salvaging again, and the only way to get Manny Vargas to spill the beans on Sam’s assailant. Boone agreed, wondering if it might bring him closer to his end goal.

“Praise the creator!” the ghoul cried as he handed Sam a key to the basement. “Bless you, wanderers! Bless us all!”

Jason directed them how to get to the basement, and the group was on their way, heading down the metal staircase, up a small incline, and hooking a left. The door was bloodstained, and Sam sighed.

“Well,” she started. “That looks…promising.”

She twisted the key in the lock and listened as the inner workings popped open. She crouched down, trying to keep a smaller shadow in the darkness. Boone crouched behind her.

“Dark in here,” he whispered over her right shoulder. “If you wanna use a scope, I can spot for you. Keep you on target.”

She nodded, nearly breaking his nose in the process. Her vision in total darkness had never been particularly strong, but fighting something invisible now? Dear God, have mercy.

The first shimmery figure came into view around the corner.

“Eleven o’clock…little higher…there,” Boone instructed in a whisper. “Take the shot.”

Sam squeezed the trigger on instinct and watched as the Nightkin shimmered into view, dead. Boone hummed noncommittally and they pressed on, taking out four others. Finally, they stumbled into a door. Behind a table stood a Nightkin that didn’t immediately attempt an attack.

“What’s that, Antler? We have a visitor?” it asked a…skull? “An assassin, more like! I say kill it Antler, for safe’s sake. Hmm? Okay, Antler, I’ll ask.”

“Not interested, moving on,” Sam declared as she squeezed the trigger of Lights Out. Sam shrugged as Darren gaped.

“What?” She asked as she opened the door behind the dead Nightkin, gun at the ready.

Together, they scoured the other rooms, finding Harland in a locked room. They ventured to the jail cells, killed the Jailer, and helped him back to the surface. After having checked every closed door, the trio declared all Nightkin eradicated, and rushed back upstairs.

“Is the way clear?” Jason asked the trio when they returned topside. Sam answered the affirmative.

“Praise the creator! And bless you, wanderers! The way is clear!” Jason announced. “I will lead my flock through the basement to the sacred site! I hope you will come find us there, wanderers. There is much to be done!”

With this, Jason rushed off, his followers close behind. Sam shrugged.

“We need them out of REPCONN, and helping them on this “Great Journey” is the only way to get them to move on permanently that doesn’t involve a buncha dead ghouls,” she explained. The three headed back to the basement, Ed-E beeping happily along to the Dean Martin tune on Sam’s Pip-Boy.

Once down in the deepest reaches of the basement, Jason called to them.

“I waited to speak to you one last time before I descended to the launch pad, wanderers,” he explained. I want you to know that we will remember you for all eternity how you delivered us to the threshold of the Great Journey. Our preparations are nearly complete, but the rockets that will carry us to salvation are yet missing vital components. If you would still help us, wanderers, speak to Chris. He can tell you what is missing. There is no way that we can thank you enough. Your arrival here was a blessing. We will remember you always.”

“Yeah, hey, can we talk about Chris for a minute?” Sam asked pointedly. Jason sighed.

“After everything you have done for us, I suppose you deserve to know everything…” Jason trailed off, looking away. “When Chris came to us, we tried to convince him he was human. But this only angered him. He seemed…lost. We decided to let him stay with us for a few days, over the course of which we learned that his technical skills far surpassed our own. It became clear that the creator sent him to us, to ensure the success of the Great Journey. Equally clear was that Chris should labor in blessed ignorance of his humanity, and his inability to make the journey himself. It is no coincidence that four humans have been vital to the success of the Great Journey.”

Ed-E beeped indignantly.

“And one robot!” Jason corrected. “It is my belief that the creator sent you and Chris to expiate the sins of your kind against mine. You are redeemers all.”

“So you’re just…gonna leave Chris behind?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Such is the creator’s will,” Jason explained. “Vision upon vision has shown me that, were Chris to accompany us, he would die in minutes. The radiation around the launch pad alone would kill Chris in minutes. The radioactivity of the Far Beyond is much stronger.”

“Wow!” Darren exclaimed. “Way to pull the wool over his eyes! You go, guys!”

“It is the creator’s will, and I must submit,” Jason argued. “There is no malice in it. We would take him with us if we could.”

“Goodbye, Jason,” Sam said emotionlessly. While Chris was certainly an asshole, he didn’t deserve to be deceived like that. She made a beeline for the engineer.

“Chris?” Sam asked. He nodded.

“Jason says that I am to cooperate with you on the final tasks necessary to launch the Great Journey,” he sighed.

“Why don’t they let you work on the launch pad?” Sam asked slowly.

“When I first joined the flock, Jason made it clear he wanted me to supervise the repairs, not do them myself,” Chris explained. “It would be a waste of my gifts to work on one system at a time. From up here, I’ve been able to supervise the entire project.”

“The radiation down there would kill you, Chris,” Sam explained slowly, like she was talking to a small child. “Because you’re human.”

“I thought we were past all that, smoothskin,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. “But you just can’t resist the chance to mess with me. Typical human. I was human once, you know. Grew up in Vault 34, northeast of here. Nice upbringing, if you like assault rifles and target practice. But oh, you prefer machines that don’t shoot people? Not so nice, then. Who should maintain the Vault’s reactor? Houser? Mitchell? No – make it Haversam, he likes machines! Haversam won’t mind getting irradiated! Haversam won’t mind mutating! He’s already ugly as it is! Haversam won’t mind when his hair starts falling out after a few years! There’s no connection, Haversam, you’re neurotic!”

Sam let him rant, and waited a few seconds after he stopped.

“You…left your Vault…because you were going bald? Really?” Sam asked, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head and it had begun reciting Latin.

“Bald!” he exploded. “You call this bald, smoothskin!? I’m a monster! A monster!”

Sam sighed.

“Jason told me himself, Chris,” she said gently. “The Great Journey is for ghouls only. You’re not going.”

Realization seemed to dawn on him, and horror bloomed in his eyes.

“Oh god!” he cried. “You’re telling me the truth, aren’t you? Oh no! How could they have done this to me? For two years? My god, I’ve been a joke to them! Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to sabotage those rockets? That’d be a joke, huh! One hell of a joke!”

“That would be murder, Chris!” Sam said firmly. “And you’re no murderer.”

“What, you think I’m too stupid to pull it off?” he sneered. “I know enough to get their rockets going, don’t I? So I can make them fail, too!”

“It’s not a matter of smarts,” Sam argued. “You’d never forgive yourself.”

“Like I could forgive myself for being duped like this?” he retorted. “They used me! And now they’ll just throw me away!”

“They’d take you if they could, Chris,” Darren stepped in. “But you’d die.”

“And dying would be worse than this?” he asked mournfully. “Used up and thrown away like garbage?”

“They’re going to revere you as a _Saint_ , Chris!” Sam emphasized.

“Oh, so I’ve redeemed the human race is that it?” he replied sarcastically. “What a crock. The human race can’t stand me.”

“That’s not true,” Darren said awkwardly. “You’re alright.”

“ _You couldn’t have put more effort into that, could you!?_ ” Sam hissed to her brother.

“So, you want me to accompany you on your adventures across the wasteland, is that it?” Chris asked. Sam shot her brother an alarmed look.

“There’s a little town called Novac down the road,” Darren saved.

“Life among humans again, is that what you’re suggesting? I guess…I guess it’s the only chance I’ve got. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but I’ll give it a try. I’ll get Jason and his flock on their way, then head for Novac.”

Sam wiped figurative sweat from her brow. They’d gone from trying to convince him of his humanity to talking him off the ledge of mass homicide in less than twenty minutes. Chris explained the components they may need and where they could find them, and they set off.

“Jesus fuck, that was close,” Sam muttered as they climbed out of the manhole. Darren agreed.

They headed back toward Novac to visit Old Lady Gibson. When they saw the dinosaur, Sam grabbed their arms to stop them. Ed-E flew straight into the back of her head, and beeped sheepishly in apology.

“Ow!” Sam muttered rubbing the back of her head. “Listen, I’ve got an idea. You know those rocket souvenirs Cliff has? I think those have the isotope in them – remember, kids drank them and got the shakes back in the day? Radiation poisoning would do that. Worth a shot?”

The other two humans of their little entourage agreed, and they met with Cliff first. He sold them the storeroom key for a pittance, allowing them to collect as many rocket toys as they could carry. Sam filled her pack, stating it should be enough.

Old Lady Gibson was a sassy old woman living with her dogs just north of Novac. She wanted 500 caps for the thrust control modules, something Sam didn’t have.

“An attractive woman like yourself all alone?” Sam asked with a cheeky grin. She hoped her charm wouldn’t get her the boot like Darren said it sometimes did. “Maybe you and I could work out some kind of trade…”

The woman in front of her let out a laugh.

“I know I’m not young and pretty anymore,” she said between chuckles. “But I appreciate the thought all the same. Here, take the parts, you flatterer.”

Boone and Darren hefted the thrusters, and they made their way back to REPCONN. Within hours, Chris had directed the ghouls on how to fix their rockets, and the group made their way to the viewing area to witness the launch.

On viewing the control panel, Sam noted the trajectory was slightly off. With some tweaking, she ensured they’d make it approximately 12 percent closer to their goal. Together, Sam, Darren, and Boone pulled the lever to launch the rockets.

Sam thought one of the three was going to fall right out of the sky, but somehow, it made it. Boone thought they were all meant to crash, and Darren hoped they’d actually make it, but didn’t believe they would. Watching in awe as the rockets burst into the sky, Sam and Darren grinned.

As they headed back toward Novac, a crackling sound from Sam’s pack drew their attention. She instructed Darren to check it out, and he pulled out a small, hand-sized radio. Boone’s eyebrows knit together.

“Why do you have an NCR radio?” he demanded. Sam shrugged as Darren put it in her hands.

“I don’t…” she trailed off, staring into the distance as a memory hit.

_“You wouldn’t happen to be Sam, would you?” Sam looked up from the plot she was digging in the garden – carrots didn’t grow themselves. Standing above her was an NCR Ranger, smiling warmly. She brushed her hands off on her pants, and he offered her a hand as she stood._

_“I am, can I help you?” she gave him a once-over, but couldn’t see anything wrong. That didn’t mean there wasn’t, but it was nothing visible. That could be good or bad. It had only been a few days since the NCR had held the Dam – surely there were troopers and rangers who hadn’t been tended to. The one’s she’d seen to she’d also seen off, likely back to California or Mojave Outpost. He pressed a small object into her hand._

_“You’ve done a good turn for the NCR, and now we’d like to do one for you,” the ranger explained. “Here’s an NCR emergency two-way radio – you call, and we’ll come running. You’re not alone out here – the NCR has your back. Stay safe, and good hunting.”_

_The man turned to leave, but turned back around as he thought of something else._

_“I wanted to thank you personally for helping my men. That radio will also give you access to NCR emergency broadcasts. It’ll tell you where to stay away from…or where to go, if you feel like helping again,” he gave her a crooked grin and a salute before leaving. Sam looked down at the radio smiling. It was nice to feel like someone had her back._

“I helped some troops coming back from the Dam…” Sam murmured. “Ranger gave me this radio.”

The three went silent as the radio static became a voice.

“ _This message will repeat. Nelson recon has failed. I repeat, Nelson recon has failed. Three troopers crucified on telephone poles. I repeat—” the voice shook. “We have three men on telephone poles. Any patrols in the distance, please assist. We do not have the firepower or manpower to help them. This message will repeat. Nelson recon h—”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, as well as the kudos and bookmarks! Please tune in next time for Chapter 4: Pistol Packin' Mama!


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